A Perfect World




Chapter 10



Sythro Laboratories particle accelerator and Research Facility-Livermore,
WestHem



Amanda Hesper walked purposefully through the halls of the research facility
at 1400 that afternoon, her uncomfortable high-heeled shoes clacking on the
sterile tile floor. As was the case with any female professional in these
ultra-conservative times, she was wearing a considerable amount of
clothing-much more than necessary for mere comfort in the environment of the
workplace. A dark colored, long-sleeve button-up blouse covered her upper
body and a black, shin-length skirt covered most of her legs. Under the
blouse was a tightly constraining brassiere, and under the skirt was a
thick, knee-length slip and a pair of non-transparent nylons. Pinned to her
blouse was a red and white security badge containing her photograph. The
colors indicated the highest level and allowed almost unrestricted access to
the facility.



She passed through two security checkpoints, clearing them after a retinal
scan, a fingerprint exam, and a voiceprint. At last she came to the electric
door that guarded the office of Thomas Hentman, the Sythro director for the
project she had been working on the last six years of her life. She put her
finger on the door panel, buzzing him, and a second later his voice issued
from the speaker, inviting her in. He was expecting her. She herself had
requested the meeting two hours earlier.



The door slid open and she entered. It was a modest office considering the
importance of the occupant but still much nicer than the one she inhabited
on the other side of the building. He had a desk of genuine oak wood, and
plush carpeting covered the floor. Potted plants were sitting here and there
and a large tropical aquarium was set up in the corner. There were no
windows in the office due to security concerns and the interior was checked
for listening devices at least twice a day by a security team. Hentman
himself, dressed in a white shirt and a conservative tie, sat behind the
desk. He looked up as she entered.



"Good day, Amanda," he greeted, his voice amicable enough. He waved to a
chair before the desk. "Have a seat."



"Thank you, Mr. Hentman," she said, addressing him as propriety dictated she
should. She walked over and sat down, adjusting herself in a ladylike
manner, so that nothing more than the top of her ankle showed from beneath
her skirt. To accidentally flash one's knee was considered quite slutty.



"What I can do for you?" he asked, once she was settled.



"Well, sir," she said. "It's about the trip out to the site." The site, of
course, meant the Lemondrop reactor that was being assembled in far space,
out beyond Pluto, where its activation would-probably-not cause any damage
to an inhabited area or draw a nearby planet from its orbit. A critical step
in the construction was fast approaching and Amanda and her team had been
ordered to oversee it in person.



"What about the trip out to the site?" he asked. "Are you having trouble
arranging for care of your residence? If that's the case we can..."



"No, sir," she said. "There is no problem with that. It's just that...
well... I thought maybe I could sit this particular trip out."



"Sit this trip out?" Hentman asked, as if he wasn't quite sure he was
hearing her correctly.



"Yes, sir. You see, my final research into the project side effects is
coming to a culmination and I really think I would be more useful here,
finalizing the details and running sims. My team is well briefed in the
component assembly process for the sub-reactor and I'm quite sure they can
oversee the assembly without me."



Hentman's expression darkened, his face becoming almost a scowl. "You want
to stay here on Earth while your assistants oversee the sub-reactor
assembly?"



"Yes, sir," she said. "I think that would be for the best."



"Amanda..." he shook his head a little. "That's the most insane thing I've
ever heard you say. You know you can't stay here and let your team handle
this. You know that. We don't dare allow communications out of the site. If
your team runs into a problem, they won't be able to contact you for
guidance. Your presence out there is absolutely mandatory."



Amanda blushed, casting her eyes downward, already cursing herself for
having asked. Yes, she did know her presence out there was mandatory. So why
had she come in here and asked to be relieved of the trip? Hadn't she known
this was how the meeting would go? "I'm sorry, sir," she said meekly.
"You're right, of course."



"Amanda," he said. "I have to be honest with you. Your asking me this
disturbs me. I can't believe you could even consider such a thing. You've
worked for six years on the engineering and construction of this reactor.
You know what the stakes are. The entire future of WestHem may very well
depend on our success here. Why in God's name are you coming in here and
asking me this now?"



Yes, she had just made a big mistake, a mistake that could potentially draw
a lot of unwanted attention to her. She thought fast, her sharp mind-which,
after all, was used to deception-quickly groping for an explanation for her
strange behavior that would sound reasonable. "I'm sorry, sir," she said
again. "I think I'm having an attack of nerves now that we're getting close
to assembly. Please forget I even asked."



Hentman looked at her, at the strain on her face. He knew Amanda was one of
the most brilliant physicists in the solar system, her reputation
unimpeachable. But for all her intelligence and skill, she was still a
woman. Every WestHem male knew that the female half of his species could be
notoriously moody and unstable at times. Weren't they always portrayed as
such in the popular media? And she was in charge of what was perhaps the
most critical portion of the project. Her plea of stress did not seem all
that unlikely. No, it really didn't at all. "Are you going to be okay,
Amanda?" he asked gently, switching over to the protective father-figure
roll almost without realizing it.



"Yes, sir," she said. "Honestly, I apologize. I've been working quite a bit
lately and I'm so tired all the time, and... well... I guess I just lost it
for a little bit there. I don't know what I was thinking. All of a sudden
those side effect studies just seemed to be the most important thing in the
solar system, and... well... you know?"



"I know," he said soothingly, his hand reaching out to pat hers across the
desk. "We've all been working hard lately and we're all getting nervous as
we start to get closer to final assembly. But don't worry. I have the
greatest confidence in you and your team. Everything will work just as it
was designed to."



"Yes, sir."



"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" he said. "Get a little rest at
home. Do something unrelated to physics or reactors. I think you need it and
I am quite sure you've earned it."



"I don't want to do that, sir," she said in mock protest, although that was
exactly what she wanted to do.



"I insist," Hentman told her. "You go home and relax for the rest of the day
and I'll just forget this little conversation we had, okay?"



"Yes, sir," she said, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. "Maybe that's not
such a bad idea after all."



Twenty minutes later, she had cleared the various security checkpoints and
was climbing aboard a public transit train. She found a seat near the front,
away from the thugs and criminals who were gathered in the rear. She stared
out the window as they began to move, heading east toward the Altamont Pass,
the gateway to the Central Valley and her home. She saw nothing of the urban
scenery as it flashed by, her mind still cursing her for the stupidity she
had just displayed to her boss.



What in the name of God was I thinking? she demanded of herself. Did I
really think Hentman was going to let me stay here on Earth? Did I really?
Her request had seemed so reasonable to her before she'd made it. Now, after
the humiliation of having it rejected, she saw it for what it was, an act of
irrational madness, a decision based on emotions she knew should be kept
deeply buried. And she knew what was churning these buried emotions to the
surface, compelling her to act in a self-destructive manner. It was love.
That great, irrational force that had destroyed more lives and careers than
all of mankind's wars combined, she would venture. She was thoroughly and
completely in love with her neighbor, Julie Dittmeyer, and could not bear
the thought of spending eight months in the blackness of space without
seeing or talking to her.



She had first seen Julie six months before, when she'd been touring the
house next door prior to purchasing it. Amanda had long before come to grips
with her sexuality and had felt no guilt when her breath caught in her
throat at that first sight, when she felt a small gush of moisture flood her
sex. Julie was a beautiful creature, even dressed in the frumpy clothes
women were required to don in these repressive times. Amanda spent the next
month hoping the glorious vision she'd spotted would be the one who finally
purchased the long vacant house. Her wish came true. Little more than six
weeks after that first glimpse, Julie was moving in and setting up
residence.



For the first two months the infatuation had remained on a strictly visual
level. Julie had introduced herself-as neighbors do-only a few short days
after moving in, telling Amanda she was an accountant for Agricorp,
divorced, but other than that, very little information. Amanda's
appreciation for her new neighbor's beauty had taken a sharp step upward at
that first meeting but it remained no more than a physical attraction pretty
much like what she felt for almost every woman of beauty she met in her day
to day life. True romantic feelings did not come until later, as they got to
know each other better, and even then, they crept up on her so slowly, so
gradually, that she hadn't really noticed them for what they were. Until
today, until she'd made a complete ass out of herself and risked her very
security clearance.



She sighed wistfully now, thinking of how she had vowed she would never let
herself fall in love with a woman again, not after what had happened with
Lorraine all those years before, not after the near disaster and near
ruination that relationship had brought to her life, not after the
humiliation of what she had to undergo to keep it a secret. She had worked
very hard since that horrible day to keep herself distant from attractive
women, to keep herself distant from everyone. And now, despite all of her
precautions, despite all of her vows to the contrary, she had let herself
fall head over heels yet again, she had let herself become emotionally
involved. She wasn't just lusting after Julie. She was in love with her. In
love!



And the worst part was, she wasn't even sure if Julie felt the same about
her. She had no idea if the woman she wanted so badly even thought of her as
anything other than a good friend, a platonic friend. They had never been
intimate with each other, nor had Julie ever given her anything more than a
slight vibe that she might even be inclined to be intimate with the same
sex. There had been no overt innuendo, nor any subtle innuendo. Not a single
time had Julie spoken a phrase or even a word that could be construed as
sexually suggestive in any way. But at the same time, there was something
there. Somehow, some way, she had the distinct feeling that Julie would be
receptive to... well... a more personal kind of friendship. Was it instinct
telling her this? Or was it wishful thinking? She didn't know, couldn't
tell. The only other time she had felt this way had been in the early days
of her relationship with Lorraine, before they had become physically active
with each other. Her instinct had been right then. Was it right now? Did she
even want it to be right now?



"I am so confused," she mumbled to herself.



She arrived home an hour later, after walking from the tram station. It was
the middle of the workday and the neighborhood was quiet. As she walked up
to her front door she cast a glance at Julie's house. It was dark and
appeared quite empty, of course. Julie didn't generally get home from work
until almost 1900. Amanda knew this because she often peered out her window,
anxiously awaiting the appearance of her friend walking up the street from
the tram station. Oh, how she had lusted after that vision, first in
physical infatuation, and then, as Julie came over to visit more and as they
became closer and closer, with hopeless love. Even now, the very sight of
Julie's empty house stirred deep feelings in the pit of her stomach. Julie
sleeps in there, her mind told her. She undresses and showers and walks
around naked in there!



"Stop it," she told herself, dragging her eyes away. The image of her
beautiful friend sleeping in the nude-as she had once confessed she
routinely did-and rubbing soap all over her breasts in the shower, was
almost more than she could bear. She walked up to her door and put her
fingerprint on the pad, opening the series of locks that guarded her
domicile. The door swung open and she nearly dove inside, as if trying to
outrun the erotic visions.



+++++



Meanwhile, twenty kilometers away, in Lodi, Julie Dittmeyer was lying on the
bed in the back room of a two-bedroom apartment located in the middle of a
sprawling, moderate-income complex. This was the residence of William
Scramm, another member of the Martian intelligence services who had been on
assignment on Earth for the better part of a Martian year now. Scramm was
covered as a janitor at the Sythro Lab complex and it was he who ran most of
the Martian agents that had been infiltrated into that particular facility.
Every workday, from 0800 to 1830 hours, Julie holed up in his apartment in
order to reinforce the belief of the neighbors in her primary neighborhood
and Amanda herself that she was going to work at the Agricorp building in
downtown Sacramento.



It was the most boring part of her assignment, without a doubt. There was
little to do here day after day except browse through the Earthling Internet
sites and watch Earthling entertainment or news shows. That generally kept
her interested for the first thirty minutes or so. After that, she was left
with nothing but her thoughts.



She was naked as she lay there, the prudish business outfit she had worn
that morning when she left her house now hanging neatly on a hanger in the
closet. She had already masturbated herself to orgasm twice this long day
and was now doing nothing more than chain smoking cigarettes and watching
the clock for it to be time to go home. Laura, the sacrifices she put up
with for her planet. About the worse torture you could offer to a person of
Martian heritage was boredom. That was one of the reasons Martian prisons
were considered such miserable places. And then there was this awful growth
of pubic hair. Before leaving Ingram for her assignment, the hair-growing
gene in her pubic region had been turned back on, allowing the regeneration
of her bush. WestHem women were forbidden from shaving themselves there.



"Email alert," the voice of her PC suddenly intoned, breaking the silence.



Julie raised her eyebrows a bit and then sat up. Although false records of
past emails from a variety of real and imaginary people had been programmed
into her server's memory banks as a means of reinforcing her cover, the only
people who ever actually emailed her were Amanda or Ron Sampson up on the
Ingram. In the case of Amanda it was usually to respond to an email Julie
had herself sent or to discuss some aspect of plans they might have made. In
the case of Ron-who naturally did not email directly since it might seem a
bit odd to the WestHem government that one of their citizens was receiving
messages from a ship they didn't even know was in orbit around their
planet-it would be to discuss some operational aspect of the mission or to
pass on information that had been discovered. No matter what the case was
now, it would at least kill a few minutes of the torturous nothing she was
enduring.



She picked up her PC and told it to access the mail server. A moment later
the face of a non-descript man appeared in holographic form above the
screen. "Hello, Miss Dittmeyer," he said. "My name is John Jenkins and I
represent the Third Bank of WestHem credit department, the provider of your
recent home loan. We have been looking at your account and notice you have
not asked for a home equity line of credit. We are prepared to offer you
such a line in the amount of 600,000 dollars at our favorable customer rate
of only 13.8%. This money can be used for anything from..."



"Stop message and purge," she interrupted. Instantly the non-descript man
disappeared. An unsolicited advertisement email-one of the scourges of
WestHem civilization. The average WestHem citizen over the age of 12 years
of age received more than fifteen such messages daily, despite the almost
universal condemnation of them and despite their clinically proven
infectiveness as an advertising medium. But this message held some interest
for Julie because such messages were usually filtered from her account by
special Martian software. The only time one was allowed to get through was
to send a message for her to call Ingram.



She stood up and pulled a robe from the closet, loosely covering her nudity.
She then took her PC and walked through the apartment, going into Scramm's
bedroom. Scramm, like men the solar system over, was quite typical in his
aversion to neatness. The bed was unmade and several days' worth of laundry
littered the floor. She gave a little grunt of disgust and sat down on the
bed, reaching over to open the blinds covering the window.



The apartment had been carefully chosen so it would enjoy an unobstructed
view to the southwest. In that direction, sixty kilometers away, Mount
TrueWest-which had been known as Mount Diablo before the corporate name
placement craze began in the early 21st century-poked its summit up over the
horizon. Atop Mount TrueWest-the highest point in the bay area-a complex
array of communications equipment was mounted, including WestHem military
dishes.



"Computer," Julie told her PC, "switch to alpha mode."



"Voice authorization confirmed," the PC replied. "Speak authorization code."



She rattled off a six-digit code, thus satisfying the security requirement.
Her PC looked exactly like a standard WestHem model but had actually been
manufactured by the Martian intelligence services and thus contained some
special hardware and software. One such thing was a communications laser
system.



"Contact Sampson," Julie told the PC, after making sure it was setting on
the table and facing Mount TrueWest.



"Contacting," it replied. "Don't touch or move until communication is
complete."



With that the PC quickly oriented itself using WestHem GPS data. It then
sent an outbound signal to a military laser reception dish atop Mount
TrueWest, the laser a tight, undetectable half-millimeter in width. It
struck the dish only six centimeters off center and sent the hail into the
WestHem military system, utilizing a side band that Martian intelligence had
long since installed for their own use. The signal was transmitted via fiber
optic cable to an encryption center in San Francisco, and from there it was
sent via microwave dish to another communications array atop Mount
Agricorp-which had once been known as Mount Shasta. There, a transmitter
encoded the signal yet again and sent it to a military satellite in
geosynchronous orbit above South America. Normal WestHem software should
have sent the signal to Denver-the capital of WestHem-at this point, but
instead it was sent out in another direction-towards what the WestHem
intelligence services would have assumed was empty space in low orbit. The
space was not currently empty however. Ingram floated there, its own sensor
arrays searching for just such a signal. Seven tenths of a second after
Julie's words, the hail request was appearing on Ron Sampson's terminal in
the intelligence room of Ingram. He returned it, establishing the
communications link, but the return signal did not follow the same route.
Instead, it went to a civilian communications satellite in geosynchronous
orbit over the Atlantic Ocean and sent the signal down to a standard
cellular communications system in the San Francisco Bay area. There the
signal found Julie's PC four fifths of a second later, although the signal
was encrypted and the fact it was sent would never register in the TrueWest
Communication Corporation tracking computer.



Sampson's hologram appeared above the PC, his face cordial, though obviously
showing the strain of so long in zero gravity. "How you doing down there,
Sweet Cunt?" he asked her. "Getting a lot of Earthling dick?"



"Wouldn't want it," she returned. "You know how Earthlings are in the
fucking department? About as good as they are at keeping their
communications secure."



He chuckled. "Good analogy," he told her. "I trust Scramm has been taking
care of your needs though?"



"Oh yes," she said. "He hoses me down about once a week or so, time
permitting. If it wasn't for a little taste of some good old-fashioned
Martian cock once in a while, I think I might've gone insane down here by
now. So anyway, what's the haps? You didn't call me to talk about my sex
life, did you?"



"As rankin' as I find the subject, no, I didn't. I went through your weekly
report yesterday and was a bit dismayed to hear your target is going to be
out in deep space for eight months or more. That might set our timetable
back a bit."



"No shit," she replied. "She just told me that last week. She's pretty vague
about just what she's going to be doing out there or even where she's going.
All she tells me is that it's for a project she is working on. I haven't
pushed her too hard, other than to let her know I'm saddened she's leaving."



"Well, it seems she's a bit saddened she is leaving as well. We've just
developed some pretty rankin' information up here about her."



"Yeah? Lay it on me."



"Well, in the first place, she left work early today, at around 1430."



"Hmmm, a break in the routine all right," Julie agreed. She didn't need to
ask how Sampson had come up with that information. It was the intelligence
team's job to track everything her target was doing by any means available
to them, especially now that Julie was in contact with her and in potential
danger if things took a wrong turn. Sampson would know what time Amanda had
left work by the computer trail she left behind her. She would have used her
bank account to pay for her ride on the tram. The transportation corporation
computer would also make a notation of her presence on a particular train at
a particular time, as well as any transfers she might make. It was virtually
impossible to travel anywhere or enter any building in WestHem without some
computer, somewhere, making note of it.



"She's probably home now," Sampson said. "But that's not the interesting
part. She apparently had a meeting with her boss-Thomas Hentman-today, just
before she left. Of course we don't have any listening devices or anything
else in Hentman's office, nor do we dare tap into the Sythro email or
messaging server-but it seems that Hentman is good friends with another
manager at the facility-a man by the name of Clinton Barbason. Barbason is
in charge of the anti-matter production department for the Lemondrop
project. Shortly after we received record of Amanda boarding the transit
train, Hentman used his personal computer account to send an email to
Barbason's personal computer. The transcript of the message was somewhat
contemptuous and sexist in nature, alluding to the underlying biology and
weakness of the female sex. What he describes is Amanda coming into his
office and requesting to be relieved of the upcoming trip to 'the site'
because she was suffering from 'nerves.'"



"Oh Laura," Julie said, grimacing. "Did she really do that?"



"We have no way of confirming this information," he told her. "But analysis
tends to sway in favor of its truthfulness. We can't imagine why he would
say such a thing to his friend if it wasn't true."



"Yeah, that makes sense," she agreed.



"She left the office shortly after that, leading us to believe she was told
to go home, hopefully just for the day. About twenty minutes after she got
there she used one of her false identities to access a lesbian pornography
site. I don't think I have to tell you what kind of pictures she was looking
at."



"No, I don't think you do," Julie said. Ever since she and Amada had become
friendly with each other there had been a sharp increase in the amount of
time Amanda spent perusing such illegal databases. And the pictures she
downloaded most often-and seemed to spend the greatest amount of time
examining-were those that portrayed petite, dark brunettes with medium
breasts and athletic legs. In other words, women who closely resembled what
Julie herself looked like. Back checks of her previous downloads confirmed
she had never shown a particular preference for this type of woman until
meeting Julie.



"So what we have here is a case of good news and bad news. The good news is
that she seems to be falling in love with you, just as we'd hoped. The bad
news is that it's starting to make her do stupid things-to override the
caution she's always had on the subject of her sexuality."



"If she keeps behaving this way," Julie said, "she'll be removed from the
project and I won't be able to get any details from her."



"That is our consensus up here," Sampson told her. "Laura knows you're the
one in control of the situation and any decisions will rest with you. That's
only common sense. But we're wondering if it's not time to maybe nudge
things along a little faster."



"You mean make a move on her."



"Fuckin' aye. She would still go to the Lemondrop site for eight months but
if you have more than just a platonic relationship working by the time she
leaves she would more than likely have her caution restored. You've been
working on her for several months now. Do you think she would react
favorably to an escalation in your relationship now?"



Julie smiled, thinking of the way she'd teased and tortured the poor
Earthling over the past month or so with the "accidental" glimpses of her
body, or the seemingly inadvertent rubs of her breasts across her back when
in close quarters. "I think she might," she answered. "I've given her more
than a few openings to try something with me but so far she hasn't taken the
bait. She's probably scared of rejection, which is understandable given her
situation and the prevailing attitude here. I've held back from being the
aggressor so far because I'm afraid of blowing the contact if she's not
quite ready. You understand that is a risk I would run if I try something?"



"Fuckin' aye," he said. "And again, I'll leave the ultimate decision up to
you. You know her much better than we do. All we do is track her by
computer. You actually talk to her, know what makes her tick, as it were.
She does seem to be in love with you. Do you think it's riskier to send her
off for eight months with that love unrealized or to risk rejection by
trying to push it?"



"A rankin' tough call to make," she said reflectively.



"That's why we pay you the big credits," he reminded her.



"Yeah, I guess it is." She thought quickly for a second, knowing she could
not keep the communication link up for very long. In the end, she decided to
go with good old gut instinct. "I'll give it a shot."



He nodded. "I thought maybe you would."



"And maybe," she said, her mind continuing to race along, to analyze, "this
setback might be the perfect opportunity to slide in the back door-as it
were."



+++++



Amanda was lying on her bed when the buzzing sound from her computer
terminal broke the silence, informing her of an incoming com. She had been
crying, her mind troubled and racked with guilt over the idiotic move she'd
made today and over the lustful, dangerous indulgence in illegal pornography
that had been her response to it. When she looked up at the bedroom terminal
and saw that Julie was the person attempting to talk to her, she almost
didn't answer it. After all, Julie was the source of all the conflicting
feelings she had been having these last months, was the catalyst for the
disastrous meeting she had called today. She knew the best thing for her to
do was to break all communication with her friend, to attempt to break the
hold she had on her before anything else happened.



But just seeing her name there on the identification screen, just seeing the
arrangement of letters in that specific order, tugged harshly on her heart,
sent wanting coursing through her body. Despite what had happened she could
not keep from seeing her face, from hearing her voice. She quickly got up
and walked over to the desk, the same desk where she had masturbated to a
furious orgasm while drooling over digital images of Julie look-alikes not
two hours before. She sat down in the chair, took a deep breath, and told
the computer to answer.



A holograph of Julie's face appeared before the screen, the hair tied back
in its usual ponytail, her eyes sparkling. "Hey, Mandy," she said, smiling.
"How are you doing today?"



"I'm fine," she said softly. "How are you, Julie?"



"It's been kind of a long day. I just got home and thought I'd com you to
see what you're doing." Her eyes focused more intently. "Are you okay?"



"Yes," Amanda answered. "I'm fine."



"You look like your hard drive's about to crash. Is there anything wrong?"



Amanda marveled, not for the first time, how her friend seemed to know her
moods just by glancing at her, even over the impersonal Internet
communications system. It was both eerie and thrilling. "Well," she
answered. "I've had a bit of a long day as well. I'm all right though...
really."



"You poor thing," Julie said sympathetically. "Listen, I scored a couple of
steaks from the Agricorp store on the way home today. They're Martian steaks
and you know how good those greenies are at growing cows. How about I come
over and cook them up for us?"



"I couldn't ask you to do that," she said, though without much conviction in
her voice.



"Oh, the hell you can't," Julie scoffed, using a phrase that was borderline
risqué for something transmitted across the Internet. "I've also got some
fresh mushrooms, some Martian artichokes, and a bottle of Merlot from the
Agricorp wineries. I must insist you don't force me to eat and drink all of
this alone."



"Well..." she said, the conviction breaking completely. "If you really don't
mind."



"I really don't mind. Let me just throw it all in a bag and I'll be over in
a few minutes."



As promised, Julie showed up at the front door five minutes later, two
grocery bags in hand, a warm smile on her face. She was wearing a thick
blouse and a bland cotton skirt that fell to the top of her shins-about as
revealing an outfit as a woman could get away with in public. Amanda helped
her carry in the bags, their fingers touching for an instant as they changed
hands. As always she felt an electric thrill shoot through her at even this
simple, innocent contact.



Julie quickly took over command of her kitchen, getting a pot of water
boiling for the artichokes and the rest of her supplies spread over the
various countertops. It turned out she had actually brought two bottles of
wine-one the Merlot she'd described during the com, the other a chilled
Chardonnay from France.



"EastHem wine?" Julie gasped, looking at the bottle. "Where did you get
that?"



"A good friend gave it to me last year," she said. "It's been hiding away in
the back of my refrigerator ever since, just waiting for the proper
occasion."



"Julie, that's illegal," she told her. It was, in fact, a federal felony to
possess any item that had been manufactured by EastHem. This was because of
a trade embargo that dated back to the Martian Revolution more than forty
years earlier. EastHem had recognized the Martian government as legitimate
in the first few days of the revolt and had supplied them with hydrogen fuel
so they could carry out combat operations against the WestHem forces trying
to take the planet back. It was said that the EastHem's had also supplied
weapons and even troops to the Martians as well-a story that any thinking
person instinctively knew was nothing but propaganda spread to explain why
the outnumbered Martians had kicked the asses of the WestHem marines so
badly.



"Well I guess we'd better get rid of the evidence then, shouldn't we?" Julie
asked, popping open the top on the wine bottle. She poured two glasses and
handed one across. She then raised hers in a toast. "To good friends," she
said.



Amanda, still nervous about having a bottle of illegal alcohol in her house,
nevertheless could not refuse to honor such a toast. She picked up the glass
before her and clinked it to Julie's. "Good friends," she repeated.



They drank. Amanda marveled over the smooth, crisp taste of the Chardonnay.
True, those EastHems were nothing but a bunch of sadistic, pagan fascists
bent on ruling the entire solar system and destroying the WestHem way of
life-or at least that's what WestHem Internet always told her-but they sure
did know how to make good wine. They drank down the entire bottle, finishing
it off while the artichokes boiled and the steaks sizzled in the broiler and
the mushrooms sautéed on the methane burning stovetop, chatting all the
while about the normal sorts of things they chatted about. Amanda was not
much of a drinker-it was considered unladylike-and by the time Julie put the
food on the table and opened up the Merlot, she was already buzzing quite
strongly and a bit unsteady on her feet.



The second bottle went a little slower but did serve to maintain the
intoxication she was developing. They ate every bite of Julie's dinner,
leaving no scraps except the artichoke leaves. They dumped the dishes in the
sink and Julie poured each of them one last glass of wine. They then sat
down on the couch in the living room, Julie sitting a bit nearer than was
the norm. Amanda looked at her, puzzled, but did not protest. On the
contrary, she felt the glow of sexuality burning within her once again. With
it however, came the familiar confusion. Was she misreading the signals her
friend was sending? Was Julie even sending signals? And if so, did she dare
act on them?



"You're still looking a little tense, Mands," Julie told her, using a
nickname she'd given her that no one else would have dared utter.



"Like I said," Amanda replied, "It's been a long day."



Abruptly, Julie chugged the rest of the wine in her glass. She set the glass
down and scooted closer. "Here," she said. "Let me help you with that."



"Uh... help me?"



She took the wineglass from her hands-it was almost empty in any case-and
set it down on the table next to her own. "Turn toward the wall," she told
her. "Let me see if I can get some of the tension out of your shoulders."



Amanda was not quite sure what she meant at first. And then Julie's soft
hands came down on her shoulders and gently turned her so she was facing
away from her. They began to squeeze and rub on her shoulders, kneading the
muscles in a way that was both soothing and erotic. She couldn't help but
sigh in pleasure. Nor could she help but be thrilled at the sensation of
Julie's hands on her body, no matter how innocent the touch. "That feels
glorious," she told Julie.



"Yes, you're as tense as a spring," Julie said, her voice very near her ear.
"Even worse than you look." Her hands moved a bit lower, onto the scapula,
rubbing and kneading there now, trying to loosen muscles that had been
hopelessly knotted with tension. And gradually, loosen they did, just a
little, but enough for her to feel a distinct difference.



"Oh Julie, I can't believe how good this feels," she nearly swooned, her
mouth loosened by the alcohol. "Where did you learn this?"



Julie chuckled in a naughty way. "I don't know if I should tell you," she
said. "You'd think me a bit scandalous if I did."



This definitely piqued Amanda's interest. "I already think you're a bit
scandalous," she said. "You sleep naked, remember? What would your bosses at
Agricorp think of you if that got out?"



"They'd all talk about how shocking it was among themselves and then go home
and polish their silos thinking about it."



Amanda barked out a stream of embarrassed giggles. That was by far the
raunchiest thing she had ever heard her friend say. "I bet they would," she
said. "So tell me where you learned to massage?"



"I don't think I should," Julie said. "It's a little more scandalous than
how I sleep."



"You won't even tell your best friend?" she asked, manufacturing a little
pout. God, but she was enjoying this conversation, those hands on her back
and shoulders, even as she felt guilty for allowing it. Such affections
between any two people who weren't married, let alone two women, were
severely frowned upon by society.



"You might not want to be my friend anymore if I told you," Julie replied.
"Just enjoy the benefits of it."



"How about if I tell you a secret of mine?" she suggested. "Something
scandalous?"



"You? Scandalous?" she scoffed in a playful manner. "You've got to be
kidding."



"Well, will you?"



"It would have to be pretty scandalous indeed," Julie said.



"Oh, it is," she said. "It really is."



"Okay then, let's hear it."



Amanda felt herself blushing, knew the wine was having an effect on her
judgment, but blurted out her "scandalous" story anyway. "Well," she said, a
giggle escaping, "ever since you told me about... you know... how nice it
felt to sleep without any clothes on... well... I've kind of been doing it
too."



"Get off the planet!" Julie exclaimed. "You have not."



"I have," she said, giggling again. "I really have. I haven't worn my
nightgown for more than a month."



"You naughty little girl," Julie said teasingly, her mouth once again
shockingly close to Amanda's ear. "What would your bosses think if they knew
that?"



"I'd probably lose my security clearance," she said, only half joking. "And
you're right. It does feel very... liberating to sleep without... you know?
Unclothed."



"Doesn't it though?" Julie said. "Especially with nice clean sheets. Mmmm,
delicious."



Amanda swallowed. For just a second there, while Julie had been saying
"delicious", the tips of her fingers had touched the sides of her breasts,
sending another jolt through her body. Had it been accidental? Had it been
purposeful?



"You okay, Mands?"



"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm fine. Now I told you my secret. Let me hear
yours."



"Are you sure you want to hear this?" she asked.



Suddenly she wasn't really sure she did, but she felt compelled all the
same. "Yes," she told her. "I do."



"Okay then, here goes." Julie took a deep breath, her hands traveling a
little further down Amanda's back, so they were gently rubbing along the
lower thoracic region, right along the spine. "When I was in college, I had
a friend named Electra."



"Electra?" Amanda said. "That sounds like a greenie name."



"It is," Julie told her. "Electra was from Mars."



"From Mars?" Amanda asked, awed. "How did she get here? Did the greenies let
her leave the planet?" It was of course well known that the reason there
were not many Martians on Earth was because the corrupt regime that
controlled that planet would not allow them to leave. It was said that the
current dictator of Mars-a horrid woman named Mitsy Brown-had ordered the
torture and execution of more than a thousand people who had merely
protested in favor of free immigration to Earth.



"Her family escaped aboard a food supply ship when she was a teen," Julie
said. "That in itself was quite a story, but anyway, when I met her, she was
working as an environmental services engineer at the university. No one else
liked her very much because she was a Martian but I got to know her a little
and I found out she was actually kind of smart-for a greenie anyway."



"Really? A smart greenie?" Conventional wisdom proclaimed there was no such
thing. After all, the greenies were evolved from the welfare trash of Earth,
weren't they?



"Strange but true," Julie confirmed. "We used to talk for hours and she
would tell me all about life on Mars, how horrible it was and how glad she
was to get out of there."



"I can imagine," Amanda said.



"As you know, on Mars, they are very... well... decadent."



"Oh yes," she said, thinking of the news reports she'd seen over the years.
The Martians believed in open sexuality, in allowing anyone to do anything
with anyone they chose. The normal dress there was almost completely naked
and there were even places where they could walk around fully nude in
public. It was reported they had dance halls where naked people actually...
well... touched each other on the dance floor, both men and women. Botching,
they called it. Even though she herself was considered a sexual deviant by
her peers, Amanda still found this Martian behavior shocking to her prudish
upbringing.



"Electra's family was religious," Julie continued. "I don't have to tell you
how religious people are treated on Mars. But anyway, she and her family
were never a part of all of the decadence that goes on there. They went to
the secret church services and tried the best they could to follow all the
teachings of The Lord without getting caught by the Secret Police the
Martians have."



"I've heard horror stories about them," Amanda said.



"All true," Julie assured her. "So, for the most part, Electra and her
family are just like everyone else in WestHem. But a few things from the
Martian way of life did manage to get through. One of those things was
giving massages."



"Massages?" she asked. "You don't mean..." she gulped, "Martian massages, do
you?"



"Well, not the full Martian massage," she amended. "Just the first part,
where you put the oil on the skin and rub it in."



"Wow," she said, awed and, suddenly very aroused. Massages such as that had
been outlawed many years before on WestHem, and for good reason. They
unnaturally set loose the prurient interests of both the subject and
masseuse. Even those who were married were not allowed to practice such a
thing. "Did you ever... I mean, did she ever... I mean... I mean..."



"I let her massage me one night," Julie said softly. "She put the oil all
over my bare back and rubbed it in."



"Your... your... bare back?" Amanda croaked, her head spinning with the
vision of Julie lying down naked and oily.



"It felt wonderful," she said. "I've never felt anything like it before or
since. And when she was done, all of my muscles were nice and loose and I
felt just... mmmm, just delicious. She even did my legs too."



"Your... legs?"



"My bare legs," she confirmed. "I could hardly walk on them afterward they
were so relaxed."



"So you were... naked in front of her?"



"Well, kind of. There was a towel covering my butt and she didn't touch me
there. And I stayed on my tummy so my breasts were covered. I'm not a
complete pagan you know."



Amanda blushed red. "I wasn't trying to say you were," she said quickly. "I
was just..." she shook her head, unable to get the vision of her friend
being massaged by a woman out of her head. God, that was so sexy, so nasty,
so arousing.



"So anyway," Julie told her, "that's where I learned to massage. I only got
the oil massage once-we didn't dare do it again since someone might have
caught us-but she did teach me this kind of massage. Not as nice, but not
quite against the law either, right?"



"Right," Amanda said.



"But..."



"But what?"



"Oh, never mind," Julie said. "It's just the wine talking."



"No, tell me," Amanda said.



Julie seemed to think about it for a second. "Well," she finally said, "I
was going to say that... I think I know how to give the other kind of
massage too."



"The Martian massage?" she asked, her voice thick.



"Well, like I said, not the full massage," she said. "Just the oil part. But
if you want, maybe I could show you."



She gulped. "Show me?"



"Only if you want," Julie whispered to her. "It really does feel good and
it'll help these muscles relax. Besides, I've been dying to try it out on
someone. You wouldn't report me to the police for it, would you?"



"No," Amanda said, unaware she was licking her lips. "But I don't think we
should do that."



"Why not?"



For a moment she couldn't answer, so torn was she between her guilt and her
desire and her fear of the law. "It's wrong," she said. "They made it
against the law for a reason."



"I suppose so," Julie said, shrugging. "Forget I mentioned it." She took her
hands off Amanda's back and leaned back. "That's about as loose as I'll be
able to get you that way though."



"Oh... well, uh... thanks," she said, her hands actually trembling now, her
emotions at war within her.



"Are you okay, Mands?" Julie asked, concern in her face. "I didn't shock you
too much, did I?"



"No," she said, her voice seeming to come from a thousand kilometers away.
Already she missed her friend's touch upon her. She wanted those hands back
on her body, and not just through her shirt either. There was no denying it,
no hiding it. "Not at all... uh... well, maybe a little... but... but..."



"But what?"



"Well, maybe we could just... you know... try that Martian massage thing?
Maybe just for a few minutes?"



Julie smiled, her eyes giving no hint of what was going on behind them.
"Maybe for just a few minutes," she said. "Why don't we go to your bedroom?
It'll be more comfortable in there."



Her bedroom! The words sent fresh shivers through her. Julie wanted to go to
her bedroom with her! "Okay," she squeaked.



Her bedroom was in the very rear of the house, a large room, tastefully and
conservatively decorated in earth tones. There was the inevitable computer
terminal in one corner and a large, four-post bed centered between imitation
wood nightstands. Leading off opposite the main doorway was the master
bathroom. Amanda turned on the lights as they entered and then stood
nervously near the foot of the bed.



"The Martians use a special oil for their massages," Julie told her. "Since
we don't have any of that available I guess we'll have to improvise. Do you
have any mineral oil?"



"Sure," she said, moving quickly to the bathroom. In a drawer in the cabinet
was a bottle of Henderson Pharmaceuticals mineral oil. Such a substance was
available by prescription only since it was deemed an encouragement to
masturbation and deviant sexuality. Amanda, like half the population of
WestHem, had complained to her doctor of chaff marks on her feet as a means
to secure a supply. Of course she didn't use it for her feet, she used it to
lube up the cucumbers she purchased from the Agricorp store so she could
masturbate with them. She took it out of the drawer now with a hand that
trembled. The plastic surface of the bottle was slippery to the touch.



"And what, may I ask, do you use this for?" Julie asked when she returned
with it, a sly grin on her face.



Amanda blushed, unable to look her in the eye. "Just like it says on the
bottle. For my feet."



"Uh huh," Julie said. "And how many of those cucumbers that the greenies
ship over here do you think are actually put in salads? You ever wonder
that?"



"No," she said. "I've never wondered that."



Julie giggled. "Lighten up, Mands," she told her. "We're having a good time
here, remember? What you do with your mineral oil and your cucumbers is your
business, no one else's. Do you have a towel we can put down on the bed?"



She went and retrieved a towel, moving more slowly this time, wondering
again just what was happening here. Was she really about to receive an
illegal Martian massage from her best friend? Was that all that Julie was
going to do? Why was Julie talking so boldly, so blatantly sexual to her all
of a sudden? Maybe she should just put a stop to this right now, before
things went too far. But she couldn't. As nervous as she was, as guilty as
she felt, she was also dying to feel her friend's hands on her. Her vagina
was juicing at the very thought. She took the towel back to the bedroom and
laid it neatly on the bed.



"Now what?" she asked.



"Now, you take off your clothes and lay down," Julie said softly.



"All of them?"



"You can leave your underwear on," she said, her tone indicating, however,
that she wouldn't mind if she took those off as well. "I'll turn around.
Just lay down on the bed on your tummy when you're done." She turned her
back to her, so she was looking at the wall.



Amanda had another moment in which she almost lost her nerve. Not since
Lorraine had she undressed in front of another person. Not even the
prostitutes she had employed in her more desperate hours had seen her naked,
nor she them. They had all serviced her in the dark. But the lure of that
bottle of oil and those sexy hands called to her. Her trembling fingers went
to the buttons on her blouse and she began to open them, one by one. When it
was all the way open she pulled it off, dropping it to the floor. She then
unzipped her floor length skirt and removed it as well, leaving her standing
in a full slip and tight brassiere. She removed the slip next, baring her
legs. The panties beneath were white, since no other color was available
except on the black market. They waistband was high, well over her navel.
Underwear was deemed to be a garment to cover the forbidden region, not
something to draw attention to it, and this pair did its job admirably.



"How we doing?" Julie asked, keeping her back turned towards her.



"Almost done," she answered, gathering her courage. Finally she reached
behind her and released the catch on the brassiere. It fell away, revealing
her moderate sized breasts. They were pale, of course, since they never saw
the light of the sun, but aesthetically pleasing all the same. The nipples
were quite hard and she could not even begin to tell herself it was because
of the chill in the room. She lay down on the bed, her breasts flattening
beneath her, her legs tightly closed. She took another deep breath and then
said, "Okay, I'm ready."



With her peripheral vision she saw Julie turn around and look at her. She
could feel her eyes moving up and down the bare flesh of her body and the
gaze seemed to burn her skin.



"You've got a nice body, Mands," Julie said appreciatively. "I thought you
probably did but it's hard to tell with all the clothes they make us girls
wear."



"Uh... well... uh... thanks," she stammered, a fresh blush arising.



"I really think you're going to like this," she said, picking up the bottle
of oil. She walked over to the bed and knelt down on it, her knees next to
Amanda's buttocks. "I think you're going to like this a lot."



She couldn't see what Julie was doing but she heard the sound of oil
dribbling out of the bottle followed by Julie's hands rubbing together. A
second later those hands came down on her bare shoulders, slippery and warm,
and they began to rub her with just the right amount of firmness, kneading
the muscles, relaxing them. It felt incredibly sensuous, unlike anything she
had ever felt before. A sigh escaped her lips.



"You ain't felt nothing yet," Julie said. "Wait until I really go to town on
you."



Julie poured more oil, and her hands came down once more, a little lower on
Amanda's back this time. She rubbed it in, making lazy circles with her
hands, alternately touching Amanda with the fingertips and then the heels,
spreading the oil all along her scapula and her upper spinal region and then
darting back up to the shoulders. The guilt and the fear began to subside,
replaced by bliss at the touch of those feminine hands on her bare flesh.



"You like it, Mands?" Julie asked her.



"Yessss," she sighed. "It feels heavenly."



She oiled her hands again and then began to massage the lower back, her
hands circling down and down until they were touching the waistband of her
underwear. Amanda felt fresh juices gush from her sex at the forbidden touch
and resisted the urge to rub her legs together. Now her entire back was
slick with oil. She moaned again as Julie began running her fingers up and
down the length of her spinal column, stopping at each vertebrae to give it
a gentle push. She spent particular time on the lower vertebrae, just above
her waistband, and then went back to the top and worked her way down again.
She did this three or four times, spending about a minute per cycle and by
the end her entire spine felt realigned, the dull ache that came from
sitting in an office chair day in and day out reduced to a pleasant throb
that was more sexual in nature than painful.



"You're starting to look really relaxed now," Julie commented.



"I am," she told her. "Oh God, I really am."



"Let me work on the big muscles of your back now."



With that, she used her forearms to rub on each side of her back, leaning
forward and putting her weight on them and then sliding them up and down in
alternating circles, pushing the flesh before them like a rolling pin. The
pressure was enough to drive some of the air from her lungs and flirted with
the border of pain and pleasure, staying just on the proper side of the
line. She did this for nearly five more minutes, stopping every once in a
while to oil her forearms to keep the friction low. When this phase was over
Amanda was nearly breathless with pleasure, her muscles loose and quivering.



"And now, the legs," Julie said, oiling up her hands again.



"The legs?" she asked. "You do those too?"



"It's part of the massage," Julie replied, shifting position on the bed.
"You start with the feet."



"Ohhh," Amanda squealed as she felt her right foot lifted and those slippery
hands engulf it.



She worked each foot individually, pushing, pulling, pressing, even
massaging the toes one by one. From there, she worked up each ankle, paying
particular attention to the calves, her fingers stopping at the back of the
knee and using teasing strokes there. Amanda had to fight to keep still
during this portion. This part of her body was very sensitive and the
contact was making her clitoris swell between her legs.



"Bring your legs apart a little," Julie told her.



"Do... do what?" she asked. Bring her legs apart? She couldn't do that. The
crotch of her panties were absolutely soaked with her juices and she knew
the dampness of the cotton in that area would be plainly visible to Julie's
eyes.



Julie noticed the hesitation and took matters into her own hands. She
inserted her fingers into the gap between the knees and pulled, compelling
the extremities to come apart. Amanda fought the intrusion at first,
embarrassed, aroused, unsure how her friend would react, but Julie was
insistent.



"I can't get the inside of your thighs if they're closed like that," she
told her, continuing to pull. "Don't worry, Mands, I'm aware of the effect
the massage has on certain... oh... perspiration glands. It had the same
effect on me when Electra gave me the massage."



"It did?" she asked, still fighting against the pressure, though not quite
as firmly.



"It did," she assured her. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's natural,
beautiful even. Now bring your legs apart and let me continue."



She's telling me that she knows I'm wet, Amanda thought, her body shuddering
a little. She's telling me that and she says it's natural. What is she
trying to do to me? Should I let her? The answer didn't take her long to
come to. Julie's hands felt far too good upon her body and she was far too
sexually aroused to stop her now. Not since Lorraine herself had she been
this turned on. She let her legs fall open, revealing her wet crotch to
Julie's gaze.



Julie did not let the view go uncommented upon. "It looks like I'm doing a
very good job, huh Mands?" she asked playfully. "It smells like it, too."



Amanda could do nothing but blush. Not even Lorraine had been this blatantly
forward. But still, she could not muster the will to stop her.



The oily hands came down once again, this time onto her right thigh, just
above the knee. She encircled her leg and began to move her hand upward,
kneading and caressing the flesh as she went, spreading the oil about,
moving higher and higher with agonizing slowness. When she reached the top
of the thigh her knuckles brushed against the crotch of her panties just for
the briefest of seconds, imparting a hint of pressure against her swollen
sex beneath the cotton.



"Oh," she squeaked, her body jumping.



"Sorry, Mands," Julie said, sounding anything but. She then removed her
hands and oiled them up again before going to the left leg and starting the
process over. Again it took seemingly forever for her hands to work their
way to the top of the thigh. This time, when the knuckles came into contact
with her crotch, the pressure was greater, making her moan aloud, and it
lingered much longer. There was absolutely no way she could tell herself the
touch was accidental or that it was not sexual in nature. Just what was
going on here? Was Julie trying to... to... do things with her? To do the
things Amanda had dreamed of doing with her?



"Mands," Julie's voice said softly as her hands pulled off her leg, "I have
a bit of a confession to make."



"Whu... whu... what is it?" she asked, her voice breaking in fear and
desire.



"When I told you Electra didn't teach me the full Martian massage... I lied.
She did."



"You... you... mean...?"



"Yes," she whispered, her weight shifting on the bed behind her, and
suddenly there was a new sensation on her body. She felt a wet tongue
touching the back of her knee, swirling around, licking up and down.



"Ohhh, uh... Julie..." she stammered, unsure what she was going to say, but
making no move to stop her friend from doing what she was doing.



"Shhh," Julie whispered, her tongue moving upward now, trailing wetly up the
back of her thigh, moving higher and higher.



"Oh God," she whimpered, trembling all over now but mesmerized by the
glorious feel of that tongue moving across her flesh.



It moved to the bottom edge of her underwear and then stabbed gently beneath
a few times. Then, still slow and deliberate, it began to follow the elastic
band of the leg inward, toward her center, licking across the tendon of her
thigh, Julie's nose rubbing softly onto her pubis through the cotton
covering. Two fingers suddenly reached into the crotch of the underwear and
pulled them to the side, baring her sex. And then the tongue was upon her,
licking between her swollen lips, tasting her very essence.



"Ohhhh, Julie.... Ohhhhhhh," she groaned in fearful ecstasy. Julie was
licking her vagina! Was putting her tongue upon her just like she'd always
dreamed. Was this a dream now? Just a particularly vivid wish fulfillment
fantasy played out in her mind while she slumbered?



Julie's tongue plunging all the way inside her slit quickly demolished that
theory. The jolts of pleasure that shot through her body at this action were
too real, too intense to be anything but blessed reality. This was really
happening. Julie was really copulating her with her mouth. After all this
time, after all of the fantasies, it was really happening!



She was lost at that moment, all thoughts of putting an end to the encounter
vanished. She moaned again and opened her legs wider, giving her friend-and
now, lover-better access to what she sought. Julie was quick to take
advantage. She plunged her tongue in and out several times and then began to
lap up and down the length of her slit in broad strokes, passing over her
swollen clit at the bottom of each stroke, going nearly to her anus at the
top. She varied her speed and pressure as she went, drawing every ounce of
pleasure she could. Amanda could only moan and shudder, her fists clenching
the sheets of the bed.



Julie pulled her mouth away suddenly and then pulled her face back. She
grabbed hold of Amanda's leg and began to pull on it. "Roll over, Mands,"
she ordered. "Let me do this right."



Amanda didn't hesitate. She allowed herself to be rolled onto her back. When
Julie grabbed at the waistband of her underwear to remove them she lifted
her hips up, allowing them to be slid down her legs and off. Now naked, she
spread her legs widely, looking with lust upon the face of her lover.
Julie's mouth and nose were wet with her juices. Her tongue snuck out and
licked at her lip.



"I've wanted to do this to you ever since I met you," Julie told her.



"Oh god," Amanda whimpered.



"And you've wanted me too, haven't you?"



"Yes," she said. "From the first moment."



"I knew you were like me," Julie told her. "I just knew it."



"Yes, oh yes."



"And now I'm going to finish what I started." With that, she lowered her
face to Amanda's crotch and soon that tongue was back within her, licking
her up and down, that mouth sucking and teasing and bringing pleasure to
her.



"So good," Amanda moaned over and over again. "So good."



When Julie began to suck on her clitoris, the orgasm just exploded through
her, waves of pleasure rocketing up and down her nerve pathways. She
screamed out at the ceiling, her fists ripping the sheets free of the bed,
her pelvis mashing up and down as if she were convulsing. And still Julie
kept sucking, keeping up the pressure, drawing out every last ounce of
pleasure.



As the last spasm faded away, leaving Amanda's body drained and satiated,
Julie pulled her face from her dripping crotch and kneeled between her legs.
She stared down at her new lover, her face hungry, her eyes full of lust.



"It's my turn now," she told Amanda.



"You... your turn?" she asked her, unaware she was licking her lips.



"I'm gonna put my pussy on your face now, and you're gonna eat it," she
said.



"Oh God," Amanda panted.



"Aren't you, Mands? You're gonna lick me until I come all over your little
lezzy face, right?"



"Yes, oh yes," Amanda cried, already juicing up again at the thought. "Give
it to me!"



"Thought I didn't notice you looking at me all those times, didn't you?"
Julie asked, pulling up the hem of her skirt a little, so her ankles and
then knees came into view. She wore no nylons and her legs were smooth
shaven.



"Yes... no... I don't know," she said, her hand reaching out and touching
Julie's knee. The skin was so soft, so feminine. Just like skin should be.
Just like she'd imagined it would be.



"You know," Julie said, raising the skirt just a bit higher, so the bottom
of her smooth thighs came into view. She began to inch forward, moving her
pelvis up onto Amanda's, the skirt inching higher and higher. "I saw your
eyes looking at me, I felt you wanting to touch me. Remember when I
accidentally walked out of my bedroom without my pants and panties on?
Remember that? I told you I'd forgot you were there."



"Yes," Amanda said, her mouth watering now as Julie's upper thighs came into
view. They were creamy looking, darker than that of most women.



"That wasn't an accident," she said, inching further up her body, her crotch
moving onto Amanda's bare tummy now, the skirt going just a little higher on
her thighs, though not high enough for her to see what was between them. "I
wanted you to see me. I was hoping you would try something with me. You
could have had me that night, you know?"



"No, I... I didn't know," she squeaked.



"But you know you can have me now, right?" she asked, inching further up,
over her breasts, up to her neck, the warm skin of her lower thighs now
touching the side of Amanda's face.



"Yes," she said, her hands going to those thighs, stroking them, basking in
the sensation.



"And you want me now, don't you?" Her fingers gripped the hem of the skirt
tighter.



"More than anything, Julie," she cried. "Oh God, give it to me! Give me your
pussy!"



Julie smiled and raised her skirt the rest of the way up, until it was
bunched around her stomach. Amanda gasped as she saw what was revealed.
Julie wasn't wearing any underwear, not a single stitch. Her vaginal lips
were plainly visible peeking out through the mat of dark pubic hair, swollen
and dripping with juice. The clit was hard, just begging to be sucked. "It's
all yours, baby," she said, inching forward the final distance. "Take me."



Amanda pulled her crotch into her face, jabbing out with her tongue, tasting
for the first time the musky juices of the woman she loved. Julie dropped
the hem of her skirt back down, so it was covering her face and the only
thing visible to her eyes was that beautiful female organ before her.



Amanda feasted on her, tasting her everywhere, licking everything, sucking
her clit, attacking her wet lips with her mouth, her lust and love driving
her onward, all thoughts of her idiocy earlier that day erased from her
mind.



They made love for the better part of an hour, speaking little except for
moans and grunts of pleasure. They stripped off their clothes and basked in
the forbidden pleasures of the female flesh, drawing orgasms from each other
in as many ways as they could imagine. Amanda, by far, was the beneficiary
of greater knowledge in the encounter. She came no less than seven times,
each orgasm more powerful than the one before. Still, she didn't give too
terribly bad either. She managed to draw four from Julie, three with her
mouth and one with her fingers.



Finally, satiated, exhausted, and dripping with the sweat of lovers, they
lay naked together atop the destroyed bedcovers, flesh to flesh, their hands
caressing gently, their mouths occasionally sharing a soft kiss flavored
with musk. For almost another hour they simply stayed like that, neither
speaking, just being. Finally Amanda, her mind still confused, broke the
silence.



"You've done this before?" she asked.



"Made love to a woman?" Julie asked her. "Yes. I have. And so have you."



"Yes," she admitted. "I'm a lesbian. I always have been."



"So am I," Julie told her. "I didn't know that until Electra gave me the
massage that time, but I'd known something was different about me. I just
never liked men the way all my friends did. I was afraid to tell anyone. I'm
sure you know what I mean."



"Oh yes," Amanda said, delighted at hearing this. Here was someone who could
understand where she was coming from! "I know exactly what you mean."



They talked. She told Julie everything about her past, starting with her
first feelings for the same sex at puberty. She told of her best friend in
high school, how she had seduced her, and how she had ended up with an
extensive therapy session as a result.



"As if what we feel could be cured," Julie nearly spat.



"Right," Amanda agreed.



"I love WestHem as much as anyone," she told her. "I fly the flag every VA
day, just like everyone else, but our leaders' views on sexuality are
horribly distorted, wouldn't you say? Sometimes I think those damn greenies
have got the right idea. I hear that on Mars women like us can marry each
other if they want, and no one cares about it."



Amanda had to concede that, as perverted and decadent as the Martian people
were reported to be, in some regards there was a lot to admire them for.



She continued her story, working her way through her college affairs and
finally around to Lorraine, the only woman she had loved-at least until now.
She told of how they had met and how they had become friends. In wistful,
melancholy tones she told of how they had taken a trip to South Lake Tahoe
and how, after a night of drinking, they had fallen into each other's arms
in much the same way as now.



"Lorraine initiated it," she told her. "I was pretty sure by that point that
she wanted to... you know... make love with me, but I didn't have the nerve
to make the first move. Finally she just kissed me. It was one of those
kisses that could've been friendly or could've been passionate, depending on
what happened next. If I would've pulled back from her, she would've said it
was friendly, but I didn't, and she kept kissing me, and then she put her
tongue in my mouth." She sighed, thinking of the memory. "We stayed up the
rest of the night after that. It was the beginning of a long relationship."



"How long?" Julie asked.



"Two years," she said. "We were together for almost two years."



"Why did you stop?"



She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat, feeling her skin burn with the
embarrassment and shame that memory brought. "We got caught," she finally
said. "By her husband."



"He caught you?"



"I think he was starting to suspect what was going on between us," she said.
"One day he only pretended to go to work. We met at her house that day and
we started making love, just like we always did. He came in and caught us
right in the middle of it."



"Damn," Julie whispered. "What did he do?"



"He..." She paused to wipe a tear from her eye. "He... took advantage of the
situation."



"Oh?"



She nodded, dabbing again at her eye. "He told us what was going to happen
if he let it be known what was going on. My career would have been derailed
right there. I would've ended up living in the ghetto, probably working as a
prostitute. Lorraine would've been divorced without any alimony or support.
She would've probably ended up there with me. His price for silence was..."
A sob escaped from her. "Was to have both of us for the night."



"He raped you," Julie said.



"Yes," she said with a nod. "Several times that night. He even put it in
my... you know... my anus while he made me lick Lorraine out so he could
watch. It was the most horrible thing that's ever been done to me. He took
my love for her and turned it into a twisted, perverted thing for his
pleasure."



"Men are like that," Julie told her, emphasizing the word "men" negatively.



"Yes, they are, aren't they? All of them."



"All of them," Julie agreed.



"We never saw each other again after that night. Her husband kept his
word-at least there's that. No one ever found out about Lorraine and me, at
least not until now."



"I'll never tell, Mandy," she said. "You know that, don't you?"



"Yes," she said, crying openly now. "I know."



Julie took Amanda in her arms, holding her close, caressing her, comforting
her. She was very good at it, almost too good.



"Oh Julie," she said. "What's happening here? I told myself after Lorraine
that I would never let myself fall in love with anyone again. And, God help
me, it's happened anyway. I love you."



"I know you do," she whispered in her ear. "And I love you too. I have for
quite some time."



Hearing the words, she broke into fresh sobs. Julie continued to hold her,
to stroke her back, whispering soothing words in her ear.



"What are we going to do?" Amanda asked at last. "Women aren't allowed to be
in love in this world. If we're found out I'll lose my job, I might even go
to prison."



"We won't be found out," Julie assured her. "I don't have a husband, at
least not anymore. Nobody is going to catch us. We both know how to be
careful."



She wanted to be reassured by the words but, because of what had happened
earlier that day, she couldn't. "I used to know how," she said. "I used to
think I knew how to do that."



"You do, Mandy," she said. "I know you do."



"That's just it," she said, pulling back. "I don't. I did something really
stupid today. Something very dangerous. And I did it because I love you."



"What did you do?" Julie asked her.



She sighed. "Remember the trip I told you about? The trip to space?"



"Yes," she said. "The one you couldn't talk about."



"I still can't talk about it," she said. "All I can tell you is that I'm in
charge of a very important part of a very important project for the WestHem
government, something with far-reaching implications. We're assembling a
portion of this project in space soon. That's why I have to go there. But I
couldn't bear the thought of not seeing you for eight months. It was tearing
me apart. I'm in love with you, Julie. Hopelessly in love. Do you
understand?"



"I do," she said softly. "What did you do?"



"I was out of my head," she said. "I went into my boss' office and asked if
I could stay on Earth. I gave him an excuse that was completely ridiculous
for why I needed to do this."



"I see. And what did he do?"



"He turned down my request, of course," she said. "I could see in his eyes
that I shook his trust in me simply by making it. I drew attention to
myself, Julie, and I did it because I'm in love with a woman. I put
everything at risk, including my part of the project. I know how damned
important this project is, and yet I did that anyway."



"But you're still going?" she asked, her voice unreadable.



She nodded. "I'm still going. If I don't do any other stupid things between
then and now."



"So your job is still safe at the moment? And you didn't tell your boss the
real reason why you wanted to stay?"



"Yes," she said, "but I did raise his suspicions. Probably not enough for
him to recommend an investigation into me, but enough for him to start
keeping a closer eye on me."



"You made a mistake," Julie said. "It happens. Especially when you're
dealing with love. You won't make that mistake again though, will you?"



"Not that one," she said. "But what about others?"



"When do you leave?" Julie asked her.



"Two weeks," she said. "They're in the process of shipping the components we
need up to Departure. Once that's done, we head out. I can't tell you where
we're going, but it's a long trip there and back." She let out another sob.
"God, I'm going to miss you."



"I'm going to miss you, too," Julie said. "But I'll still be here when you
get back. I promise."



"You will?"



"I will," she promised. "And your job while you're gone is to think about
me, how much I love you, what we mean to each other, but not to let anyone
else know you're thinking about me. Just do your job like you always have. I
have no idea what it is you do for Sythro, but obviously you're good at it
or they wouldn't have put you in charge of something so important. You just
keep on like you always have and remember that someone back here on Earth
loves you and is waiting for you. Can you do that?"



She cried again. "I can do that," she sobbed.



Julie held her again, comforting her. Eventually the sobs petered out and
the comforting caresses began to take on the tones of passion. Soon they
were making love again. It was no less passionate than the first time.



+++++



"Mission accomplished," Julie told the hologram of Sampson the next morning.
She was once again in Scramm's room, sitting atop his bed, facing Mount
TrueWest. "We did the nasty all night long."



"Very good," Sampson replied, grinning lecherously. "How was she?"



"Not bad for an Earthling," she said. "A little prudish but she's not bad at
eating pussy. She actually made me come a few times."



"A bonus you didn't expect," he said.



"Fuckin' aye," she agreed. "Anyway, it looks like I got her back on track as
long as her boss keeps her actions yesterday on an unofficial level. She
declared her love for me and I promised I'd be here for her when she gets
back. Hopefully that will get her to utilize the caution she's always shown
before. I think it will."



"Good job, Julie," he said. "I know this assignment is hard on you. You've
never had to spend so much time down in that pit of hypocrisy before."



"You ain't shitting," she said, rubbing at her vagina a bit. It was still
sore from the enthusiastic mouth that had been after it last night. "And
it's not just the length of the mission that gets to me, it's the subject."



"Feeling guilt at playing with your target this way?" he asked knowingly.



She nodded. "She's different than the other Earthlings I've manipulated. She
actually loves me and I've been telling her that I love her, too. I'm not
going to get all soft on you or anything, but it just bothers me a little."
She shrugged. "I'll get over it, I suppose."



"You can empathize with her," he said. "It happens to all of us from time to
time. But just remember your purpose down there. Remember what she's helping
to set in motion. If they succeed in what they are doing and we don't
succeed in Counterdrop, it may very well be the end of all we know. We can't
allow that to happen."



"I know," she said, a twisted smile on her face. "Like I said, I know what
my job is and I know what Amanda Hesper represents. I'll just be glad when
this assignment is over with."



"So will we all," he said. "So will we all."