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Message-ID: <32827asstr$1002233401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: elf@drizzle.com (Elf Sternberg)
Summary: M/F furry
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Cache-Post-Path: yabetcha.drizzle.com!elf@cascadia.drizzle.com
Subject: {ASSM} Journal Entry 231 / 00174  [ Infinite Precision ]
Date: Thu,  4 Oct 2001 18:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Infinite Precision
Anar, Narquel 20, 0174

"Blessed are the poor is spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Io barely heard the priest speaking as she looked around the small ring
of people gathered around the rectangular hole in the ground. Her
mother stood stoically by her side, sighing gently from time to
time. She seemed almost glad that the saga was over. Io's grandmother,
her mother's mother, had passed away quickly.

"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."

Io already felt comforted. She wished her grandmother had held
on longer, but was grateful that the end had been quick and
painless. Emily had been in full possession of her faculties up
until the end, a cantankerous old woman who had lasted almost a
hundred years, strong and walking until the very last. It had all
been so sudden, the stroke, the fall, the bleeding, the crash. Yet,
her last hours had been peaceful; she had wanted to go.

"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."

Io agreed with that. The brave, on the other hand, were already on
their way to the stars. The US, the Pacific Rim, the European Union,
and the Soviet Union all had faster-than-light projects under way. Io
was proud to be a minor part of one of those projects. The meek could
have the fucking dead Earth, Io thought.

"Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness:
for they shall be filled."

The wind picked up, whipping cruelly along the ankle-length black
skirt which Io had bought specifically for the funeral. She glanced
up at the gloomy cloudcover and hoped that it wouldn't rain. Emily
would have loved this weather; she was always more inclined to enjoy
a stormy Autumn than the quiet Summer sun.

"Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God."

Io spotted a figure standing on the hill opposite the little ritual
she was attending. He was silhouetted from behind by whatever pale
sun shone through the gathering clouds, and his shape was obscured
by his clothing, which from this distance looked all the world like
some greatcloak out of a second-rate fantasy novel.

"Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children
of God."

Whoever he was, he was clearly watching her grandmother's
funeral. Io didn't know anyone who would stand off from the rest
of the family. Then one of her grandmother's stories, one of Io's
favorites, slowly floated up into her memories. She glanced up the
hillside again. She shook her head, disbelieving that he would be
here. He had always been a part of her grandmother's life, but always
in the distance, always away.

Her attention was brought back to the funeral by the soft sigh of
the mechanism lowering her grandmother's coffin into the ground. It
was not a particularly loud sound at all, but the sudden appearance
of a mechanical noise amongst all of the organic sounds of weather
and voices was as noticeable as a single billboard on a Kansas plain.

She knew too much about flat plains.

"Ashes to ashes," the priest intoned, tossing a clod of dirt from
the pile accumulated at one end into the open grave. "Dust to dust."

Her family followed suit, each member repeating the gesture if not
the words, and began filing away from the grave site. Her mother
hugged her aunt. "Io?" her mother said.

"Mom?"

"You're taking this very hard." Harder than I am, too hard, her mother
didn't say.

"I liked Grandmama," she replied. More than you did, she didn't add.

"I know you did." With yet another sigh that tokened a gulf that
could never be filled, her mother turned away and headed for the
rented limousine that had brought her to the ceremony.

Io remained behind. The priest noticed her reticence to leave and
approached. "Can I help you?" he asked. She had expected him to be
unctuous but instead he actually seemed concerned. She smiled and
shook her head. "No, thank you. I just... she was my best friend."

"I thought you were the grand-daughter."

Io smiled. "I am. But she was also my best friend."

He nodded his head. "I understand. It's rare and wonderful to hear
a family member say that. If you wish to speak about it, I will be
available in the chapel."

She smiled. "Thank you."

The priest walked back to his own car, his robes whipped by the coming
storm. Io found herself alone, under a dark-gray sky, waiting for
the rain to fall, watching the dark figure on the hill. She looked
up at him-- it had to be him-- and gestured for him to come down.

Just as she thought she might have to climb the hill to him, he stepped
forward and made his way down to her. As he approached she realized
that she hadn't been wrong. Although most of him was covered by the
greatcloak, the black muzzle with its white stripe down the front
told her everything she needed to know.

"Eriin?" she asked.

He looked at her, his eyes fallen with tears, nodded briefly, and
then stood by the grave site, now roped off to keep anyone from
falling into the hole before the robots had had a chance to finish
their work. The truck with the fill had arrived, but he paused long
enough to take his own handful of dirt and toss it onto the coffin.
"What a waste," he said.

"It happens," Io said gently as she stood next to him. "It's called
life. It's natural."

"So is cancer," he growled with a voice sheared by anger and
agony. "But you don't just accept it and let it get you." He
sighed. "Why, Emily? I invited you."

"Because she wanted it this way, Eriin. That's why." She placed a hand
on his shoulder, surprised by her own willingness to be familiar with
him. "And because you can't change what other people want."

"I... " He broke off. "I just don't understand it."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she stood by his side and
waited while he sobbed, supporting himself on one of the brass stands
that held the black velvet ropes. She wanted to comfort him, to make
him know that she did understand, but the fact was that she did not
understand and she might never understand. How did one ever come to
understand what went through the minds of immortals?

He finally drew in a large breath and turned to her. "So. Who are you?"

She held out her hand. "Io."

"Iolanthe?" he asked, grasping it. She noticed that his grip was
strong and his hands surprisingly small, almost feminine. He clearly
recognized the name. "Your grandmother sent me many letters and she
talked about you often.  I'm sorry for your loss."

"Grandmama had a good life. It's hard to feel bad about someone who
was so alive. She had her fill of life." Io smiled to cover up the
hole in her spirit where her grandmother had filled her life.

He nodded. They were silent. Then, he said, "Io. Not 'Yo'?"

"It would be," she said, "If I wanted to go with the the
classical sound. But I like it mispronounced. 'Io' makes me
sound... futuristic. And if you pronounced 'Iolanthe' the way it's
supposed to be, it just sounds like Yolanda, making me sound like
some out-of-touch hip-hop girl from the last century. It's about as
up-to-date as Mabel or Jemimah."

"Ah," Eriin said. "Just as everyone chooses to mispronounce Oenone,
because if you did say it correctly, she's just another Wynona."

The gray clouds that had filled the sky started to darken, mixing
like the early stirrings of a particularly bitter coffee. Spatters of
rain struck her hand. "We should get out of this weather," she said,
turning to head back to her car.

She looked behind herself and saw him standing there, head down,
over the grave. "Eriin?" she shouted, then walked back to the grave.

His face was apologetic. "I don't have a car. A cab brought me." He
put the hood back up on his cape. "I was about to call one to take
me back to the city."

To Io, it was an opportunity. The dream come true. She had heard the
story many times. She understood that to her grandmother the three
days she had spent with Eriin had been life-changing. It had also
been clear to her that it had been more than a three-day meeting. She
wanted to know what there was to this mel, this alien, this Pendorian,
who had so deeply affected her grandmother that she had left her
job to become a writer, traveled the world, and met her husband,
Io's grandfather, while somewhere in Turkey. "I have a car. You can
wait here, or I can just give you a ride." Cold, hard raindrops began
falling about them. "I'm going to get soaked if I don't go! Follow me!"

She turned and ran, pulling out her car keys and double-clicking the
doorlocks, opening all of them. She ran around the hood and jumped
in on her side even as the full fury of the storm broke over her
head. "Whoo!" she gasped as she shut the door beside her. She looked
to her right in time to see Eriin peering in through the window. She
gestured for him to come in.

"Thank you," he said calmly as he sat down next to her, shutting the
door. "I appreciate your kindness."

"I wasn't going to just leave you there to suffer through the storm
until the cab came." The car awoke around them, the console came to
life, recognized the storm conditions, and activated the heads-up
display. While the sounds of wind and rain buffeted the car, the
windows showed a cartoon rendering of a clear day over the screen of
water sheeting down the glass.

Io took the steering wheel and eased the car out into traffic. It
silently slid into place behind two other cars. Io programmed a
destination of Philadelphia and let the car take over. The steering
column slid down out of her way.

Eriin said, "I just wanted to come and pay my respects to... I don't
know. She's not here anymore. She doesn't exist anymore. Except
in here." He touched his chest, a gesture that surprised her. Most
Pendorians were strictly materialists; she would have thought Eriin
would gesture to his head, not his heart.

It suddenly occurred to Io that she had never been this close to an
alien before, someone born someplace other than Earth. She was used to
seeing them on the net, of course; she stalted a commercial newspage
every day, so it wasn't as if she were one of those people who used
a self-assembled collection of prejudices and called it 'news.' But
to be this close to one of those strange beings from another world,
even another kind of world, a Ring, and to be talking to him, to have
the privilege of having him to herself for a number of hours, was more
than she had ever thought possible. And it was the family legend,
Eriin, the one who had turned the staid teacher into a world-class
adventurer. But was it Eriin, or had it just been something inside
her grandmother waiting to come out at the first opportunity?

Io was determined to find out. "So, are you staying in town long?"

Eriin looked at her. "A few days. I don't have a reason to stay
on Earth and my student on Pendor is awaiting me." He grinned
momentarily. "I'm sure he's enjoying the time away from me."

"Just one student?"

"Just one. That's not that unusual on Pendor. We have fewer children
and more time on our hands. A young Dragon.  He's only eight years old,
but he's much of a handful. I suppose this isn't the most reviving way
of spending a two-week vacation, but I've wanted it for some time. When
I was informed that Emily was injured and may die, I took the first
transport to Terra. I barely made it in time. I'm sorry I didn't
get a chance to say goodbye to her." He glanced out into the gray
weather. "There's no transport going back to Pendor for a few days."

Io was surprised by the note of pain in Eriin's voice.

"Did you love her?" she asked, suddenly, curiously.

"Did I love her?" he replied. "I don't know. She was... a penpal. We
were intimate for only a day or so, not long enough to get to know
each other in any real way. It was the correspondence we had later
that was so important. I treasured her letters. She told me about all
of the ancient places on Earth that she was visiting and I jealously
read all of them, wishing I could see those places by myself. We
have no places like that on Pendor. Everything is young. Everything
is new. And always she told me about her family, about Raheem, and
about your mother, Taysha, and how they fell out when Taysha went
to college. I loved every word she sent me, but I don't know if we
would have loved one another in person."

"She loved you, I think." Eriin stared at her. "She would be happy
for days after every letter arrived from you.  Grandpapa was never
that jealous; he knew it wasn't something that threatened him, so
she loved to talk about what you were saying, and doing, and your
impressions of the politics that were going on. I think she traveled
the Earth just to give you a gift, sometimes, of her words and those
ancient places. She knew all about the Pendorian wish for a history."

"Yes, she did know all about that," Eriin agreed, his voice heavy
with sadness. "Forgive me for being selfish."

"Selfish?"

"Yes. I can't change what Emily wanted, but I want to. I want her
voice and her guidance, and I'm selfishly wishing that it could be
otherwise. Even if she'd moved to Pendor, though she would be someone
I could know, and learn from. The reborn Emily would have her previous
memories, and we would have something to share."

They were silent. The road slid by, hundreds of cars in carefully
marshaled ranks, each maintaining its own distance, each aware of its
own destination, each taking in only data, making its own decisions
about speed and distance, and yet the whole was as organized and as
flawless as the human blood supply.

It was especially ironic in that the laws had had to be loosened to
make this possible. Autodyne driving systems had become the staple of
insurance companies giving people deep discounts for cars that kept
their distance, maintained legal speed, and took in the world at data
rates thousands of times greater than than of the human eye and ear.

"Eriin? When we get to Philly it'll be sometime past lunch. Are you
hungry? I know this great restaurant. It's a little Ethiopian place
Grandmama like. It's really very mainstream these days; they have all
sorts of food.  Especially since your people have been providing them
with the technology to feed themselves." She laughed momentarily. "I
read in a history book somewhere that when the Pendorians started
feeding the African mainland the European Union went nuts, terrified
about a population explosion."

"It did happen," Eriin said. "For the first ten years people were
having babies as if it were the only thing they knew to do. And
then they started to settle down and worry about other things. With
enough food and the right birth control, they began the same curve
that happened to Americans and Europeans. People stop having babies
and start doing other things."

"So, lunch?" she asked.

"I'd like that," he said.

The rain was still pounding the city when they turned off the freeway
and entered the city traffic flow. Io took the wheel and directed
them through the narrow streets toward the restaurant.

They went inside and took seats. Io noted the interest Eriin generated
in the other patrons, but saw that they quickly looked back to their
own plates.

After the waiter had taken their orders, Eriin sighed. "I don't
feel..." he began. "I feel... I don't know how I feel. I'm supposed
to respect Emily's decision, but I can't. And I can't make it go
away. The feeling. I can't be reconciled to it."

She reached out and touched his arm. She could feel a vague fluffiness
through the soft cloth of his well-tailored shirt. He looked up at
her. "No, it doesn't go away just because you want it to. Maybe
someday you'll be able to make it go away just by asking it to,
but right now... " She sighed. "All you can do is look for ways of
honoring her memory and moving forward."

He looked up at her and she was shocked by the hollowness dying
behind his eyes. "What do you do in the meantime? How do you deal
with the pain?"

"By... by celebrating what you do have, about what she was, and
what a foundation she leaves behind for us." She sighed. "I wish I
could do that with my Mom." Eriin didn't respond, giving her room
to continue. "I've always followed Grandmama's lead, but Mom was
more like Grandpapa. Staid. Stay-at-home. He loved Grandmama, but
there were times he didn't like her. Does that make sense?" Eriin
nodded. "The same is true of me and my Mom. I don't thing I
could... reconcile... with her, either."

"She's still alive," Eriin said.

"That doesn't mean anything," Io replied. "It really doesn't. We're so
different we barely speak the same language." She let her voice drop.

His eyes grew distant and unfocused. "Emily was so beautiful when
I met her," he said. "Strong, full. You don't look anything like
her. Your beauty is modern."

She blushed. "What does that mean?"

"You're... willowy. You move gracefully. Your grand- mother... well,
maybe it's just that I saw her in gravities she wasn't familiar with,
but she didn't exactly have grace." He sighed.

Io giggled. She could easily imagine it. "She spoke of you often. You
were one of the high points in her life."

The waiter brought their meal and they ate in silence. After the
waiter had taken away their plates, Eriin sat back in his chair and
sighed. "Sometimes, I wish there were no high points."

"I don't think you mean that," Io said. "What would it mean to her
memory to say there were no high points?  Would your loving her even
have a point if it were, well, pointless?"

He laughed. "You have a wonderful language," he said. "But..." He
took a deep breath. "How do you do it, Io? How do you reconcile your
loss with her? How will you celebrate her life?"

Io was looking into his eyes. She saw the life coming back to them and
thought that he was the most beautiful being she had ever known. This
was the man (the mel! she reminded herself) that had made her mother
see the greatness in the world. "Eriin..." she said. "I'd like to
celebrate it with you."

His eyes locked with hers and she felt a thrill run through her
body. She even felt her body flush gently with desire. She couldn't
remember the last time a man had done that to her. "Io, you know what
I am?"

She nodded. "A posit. Grandmama liked to say your brain wasn't made
out of meat. I don't care. You haven't seemed like anything but another
person, Eriin, and that's what my grandmother said about you. You were
just another person. But to me, you're not just another person. You
were, for those three days, her lover, and the feelings you left with
her lived inside her for the rest of her life. I want her to live on
in us, and... I want you to live inside me."

Eriin looked away. "I don't know if I can, Io."

"Why not?"

"Because... because you have her face. And I don't know that I can
take on the responsibility of carrying two of you in my heart after
you... go."

She reached across the table and touched his muzzle. "Eriin... what
makes you think that I want to go? That I will ever want to go? I
don't. I know that humanity is going to figure out immortality some
day. I want to see what the future is going to bring us. And, be
honest, you'll 'move on' some day, too. Isn't that what Pendorians
call it? Moving on?"

He nodded. "It isn't something we're used to, Io. It is something
your people are used to. Don't tell me that you won't be tempted as
life gets long, as every day starts to get shorter and feel like the
day before."

"Jesus, Eriin," she said, leaning across the narrow dining table. "I
didn't want to talk to you about whether or not I'll accept death
gracefully or walk through the Great Hall or get cryo'd or braced or
whatever else it is you might want to think of as a way to get around
dying." She grabed his conservative tie and pulled him toward her. "I
wanted you to come here because I've wanted to do you since I first
heard your name."

That got his attention. "Really?" he asked. "Why?"

"I don't know," she said. "Why does anyone want to do anything? Maybe
just because I want to know what it was Grandmama felt. Maybe it was
because I want that rare experience of doing a Pendorian. Maybe it
was because she told her story about you in a way that made me want
to know more. All I know, Eriin, is that you have been up here as a
fantasy character for more lonely nights than I care to remember."

A smile made its way through his pain, finally. "What about that old
warning that reality is never as good as the fantasy?"

"It'll be different. Maybe I need to find new fantasies."

"Then... Nothing else?"

"Nothing else," she agreed.

"Then... I agree. Let's go fulfill your fantasy." She saw something in
his eyes, something that she had seen before in the eyes of other men,
but from him it meant something more. Something else. He reached out
with one hand and took hers. They made their way back to the rear of
the restaurant, and through the rain to her car. As the doors slammed
shut, she was pulling him to her, kissing him. Mouths mashed together,
tongues slicked against one another, nose and muzzle struggling for
their proper positions. Neither was all that familiar with the body
of the other, not even in the general.

She couldn't wait. Already, the space between her thighs had begun
to turn liquid with need for him. But it was her responsibility to
drive and she found her hands on the wheel, turning out into the
street. Eriin pointed to the left, and she followed his directions
back to the same hotel where she had dropped him off this afternoon.

Soon they were pulling into the hotel's underground parking, and he was
leading her, directing her. She could barely follow his instructions,
the promise he had made her five minutes ago burning in her. She wanted
him to lead but he didn't know where to go. It would have been rude
to get behind him and push.

The elevator gave her another chance to press herself to him. He
pressed his hands to her, and everywhere his hand landed a thick
welling of desire grew inside her.

On the eleventh floor he led her to his room.

Inside, each stripped clothing to the floor. She threw herself to
him and he caught her in his arms even as he toppled back onto the
bed. She felt his erection between her thighs, felt her own body
prepare for him. "I want you," she gasped.

"I noticed."

"No, I mean, now!" She pulled her knees up and knelt over him,
plunging his cock into her without a moments pause. He groaned as
she dropped onto his hips. They were joined; she was filled; he
was surrounded. Her body thrummed with need as she looked down at
his black-furred and handsome body, his glittery eyes and that open
muzzle, tongue lolling out.

She gave no pause. This was no refined moment. This was a fuck! She
pounded herself on his cock. His hands gripped her arms. His cock
hit the back of her cervix. He thrust up to meet her as their passion
ran upwards, soared, and let go, even as Eriin shouted out his climax.

She tried to get one more moment out of him, but it wouldn't last. He
fell soft within her. "I thought..." She gasped.

He pulled her down beside him on the bed. "You couldn't wait?" he
asked.

"No," she said. "No, I couldn't. Jesus, Eriin, you are so hot, it
was like I wanted to rape you, I wanted you so much."

"Well, even if I'm not organic up here, I'm not a robot. I'm a
person. A male. I can't control my orgasms any more than you can."

She smiled. "Then we have all evening to try again."

"Yes," he agreed, kissing her chin. "We do." He kissed her again. They
rolled onto the bed and their kiss evolved into a slow, gentle
exploration. His fur reminded her of her second cat's, a long,
black fur that was rich and thick and had a scent like fresh beach
sand. She played with it, caressed him, stroked his chest and arms,
found the muscles underneath.

Eriin's hands were on her breasts. She liked having her breasts played
with and Eriin's touch was sensitive and gentle. When he caressed her
nipples her cunt throbbed with the need to get him hard again. "Next
time, you fuck me, okay?" she murmured.

"Mmm-hmm," Eriin agreed readily. He kissed her belly. He kissed
lower. Io thought that her cunt was actually hungering for him to
kiss her there.

Eriin's hands were on her breasts. She liked it when her breasts were
played with. Eriin's touch was as sensitive and gentle as needed. When
he caressed her nipples her cunt throbbed with desire to get him hard
again. "Next time, you fuck me, okay?" she murmured.

"Mmm-hmm," Eriin agreed readily. He kissed her belly, his tongue
tracing lazy circles around the bare skin of her navel. His fur
tickled her as he dropped down lower, his kisses dripping like the
rain over her hips.. He kissed lower. Io thought that her cunt was
actually hungering for him to kiss here there.

When his muzzle pressed against her mound, the thrills it sent through
her were indescribable. His thin tongue flickered out and caressed
her melting insides. She moaned without shame.

Eriin was so gentle that she thought she would scream. Her body was
so full of need her skin felt tight; her desire was going to explode
out of her soon. His mouth on her cunt and his hands on her hips were
driving her crazy. She wanted to come and he wouldn't let her. She
moaned, "Eriin.... You're teasing!"

He didn't change his methods at all, and it didn't matter. His tongue
was deep in the folds of her opening. He would suck on her clitoris
for a few seconds, then stop, then start again, over and over, his
tongue probing and caressing. Every little touch shocked her with
pleasure. She came with her hand clamped over her mouth, desperate
to keep the people in the next room from hearing her scream. Her body
trembled, thrashing the hotel quilt. "Oh, God," she gasped.

Eriin smiled even as he positioned himself between her legs. "You
wanted me to fuck you this time, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, please!"

His furry thighs parted her legs and he positioned his cock at her
opening. "In your fantasies, Io, do I make love hard or soft, fast
or slow?"

She was still spinning from the climax he had just given her and said,
"fast, slow, I don't... I don't care.  Both. Depends."

A second later his cock was deep inside her cunt, his body pressed
against hers. She lifted her legs into the air and he sank deeper
until every last millimeter of him was inside her. She could feel
the tip of his cock pressing up into her, letting her know that it
was a good thing there was no more of him, because there was no more
of her. "Yes," she moaned.

"Like that?" he asked.

"Just like that," she agreed. "Just like that." She clutched at his
arms, embracing his thrusting, heavy body as he made love to her,
the hardness of his cock buried deep into the most intimate parts of
her body. "Yes!"

"Is it like your fantasy?" he asked, slowing for a moment.

"Oh, better!" she gasped. "It's real!" She let her hands slide down
from his shoulders, along the fur of his back until she reached the
tight buttocks which clenched with every demanding thrust. Her heart
was pounding, her body on fire. Eriin's lovemaking was everything she
had dreamed of, everything she had hoped for. He was a warm, loving
body, a hot shaft of desire, filling her, emptying her, filling her,
over and over. She was losing control, barely breathing, as if taking
in air would distract her from taking in him.

She couldn't help but want to touch him everywhere, to put her hand
between them and feel the place where their bodies joined. She touched
the smooth skin of his cock as he withdrew and entered. She looked up
into his face and could see the concentration in his eyes, the smile
on his lips. She knew he was going to come again. And when he did,
this time she let herself feel every inch of him that was touching her,
every quiver and tremble.

His muzzle was pressing against hers, this time with gentleness,
and she let his tongue into her mouth as they toppled over onto their
sides. His cock slipped out of her and she felt the moist results of
their passion trickling out over her thigh, leaving a cool trace in
its wake. "Oh, God," she gasped, letting the words sigh out her. "That
was the most incredible fuck I've had in a long time.

"For me, too," Eriin agreed with a sigh, turning over onto his back. "I
need some water!"

She giggled. "I could get you some."

"That would be wonderful," he agreed.

She made her way to the bath, where she found the obligatory hotel
glasses. She filled two of them.

Walking back into the hotel room proper, though, she was struck by the
incongruity of the scene. It was a normal hotel room; an alien should
not be found lying on the bed. But this lovely humanoid skunk was lying
on her bed, relaxing as if he hadn't a care in the world and looking
at her with the most appreciative eyes she had ever seen on a man.

"You are very beautiful, Io," he said. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me... celebrate your grandmother's life." He took the
glass and drained it in one sitting. "Whew."

She put her own glass down and sat beside him on the bed, snuggling
up next to him. "Someday, maybe, there will be no more dying people,
Eriin. But it's not up to us, not now."

He nodded. "It's a selfish wish to ask that someone else's life be
what you want it to be. I can't reconcile myself to her decision,
but... I can know that there's still part of her alive in the
world." He was touching her, not even really paying all that much
attention to where he was touching, but his hand naturally gravitated
toward her breasts. "You don't look much like her, but... would it
be blatant flattery if I said you had a lot of her spirit?"

She grinned. "I'll take it anyway."

"Good." They sat together for a while and then Eriin said, "It's
early yet. Would you like to get cleaned up, go dancing, and then,
if you have any energy left, come back and do that again?"

"Sounds like a great idea! I know this great dance lounge!"

"I had a feeling you would," he said with a grin. "Show
me around this town before my flight leaves for Pendor."

________________________________________________________________________

Journal Entry 231 / 00174
Infinite Precision

The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related
Tales are Copyright (c) 1989-2001 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Distribution
limited to electronic media not-for-profit use only. All other rights
are reserved to the author.

--
Elf M. Sternberg, Immanentizing the Eschaton since 1988
http://www.halcyon.com/elf/

Testosterone-sodden young men too unattractive to get a woman in this
world might be desperate enough to go for 72 private virgins in the next.
        -- Richard Dawkins

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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