KRAKEN (4 page)

2

We pull up and the door is opened for me and a white gloved hand reaches out for mine to help me out. My throat clenches and tears burn beneath my eyelids. The entrance to the lobby is wide open, pouring warm, clean air out into the night. Beneath the chandelier, in the middle of the room, is Mr. Julius R. Burberry, American Earthman, former CEO of a revolutionary solar mining company and current inter-planetary flaneur.

He’s standing there in pleated pinstripe pants and gleaming black leather shoes. He wears a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms, fabric stretched by his broad shoulders. A thin, red silk tie is loose around his unbuttoned collar and dives down beneath the buttons of a dark pinstripe vest cinched fittingly around his waist.

He was my best customer.
The
best customer, in fact, of any girl on Io.  He came on business frequently, checking up on the refining and packaging stations, and every time he’d call for me.  He would visit Io more than any other businessman I’d heard of, and I came to suspect that he often came for other reasons. I didn’t let myself dwell on it much, though.

About a year ago he stopped calling. He stopped visiting. No one heard from him, and we all wondered where he had gone until one night, attending to a different client at The Hotel, I saw a story on a trashy news show. They reported on his wild antics, the day-to-day insanity of a man who couldn’t possibly spend all his money if he tried.  Boost-sailing off the rim of Olympus Mons, deep-sea exploration on Europa, navigating in the Kuiper Belt. He purchased Nix from the Plutonian Commune, held a party on a specially-designed-and-built space station, and blew the whole moon up as fireworks for the Fourth of July.  He bought up entire nations on Earth, reinventing them like a capitalist Alexander the Great.

Now, here he is, bathed in burning light. His face slowly broadens in a wide grin and he looks happier to see me than he could look about anything else. This is not the wild man I saw on the television. He bites his lip as his eyes narrow in anticipation.  I want to kick off my heels and run at him, throw my arms around his neck and wrap my legs around his waist. I want to squeal and kiss him all over his face.

I’ve never felt this before, but the look in his eyes, the subtle way his alpha-stance has melted ever-so-slightly at the sight of me…I know he’s missed me and that desire creates something within—something I guess might be love. It’s not something I’ve known, and it seems that the sensation pulsing in my heart has been crafted from the raw materials of passion and yearning that lay restlessly at the base of my skull.

But I don’t run. I walk. I sashay. I draw this moment out. I want to build a fever in him and I need every moment to carve this into the bedrock of memory. Each click of my heel, every twitch of his long fingers, every blink, is a chiseled mark in stone.

Before I’ve finished, it seems, I’m upon him. I’ve pressed my chest to his and looked up into his crystalline eyes. I don’t know what he’ll do. I suspect that he’ll kiss me.

His lips are parted by a deep breath and his eyes soften with longing. He looks nothing like the man on the television. He places one hand on my shoulder and runs it over the bare flesh of my arm, down to the fingertips, off, and pressed against my waist, squeezing me with his strong, long fingers. His other hand comes up, cups the side of my face and slides behind my hair, winding through my thick curls and squeezing. I gasp.

He wants to say something. I can tell. His eyes are searching my face. I can tell as he lingers on my lips or traces the contours of my ears with his gaze. I’m becoming more convinced that this is love which I’m watching blaze right in front of me.

He’s hypnotized for a moment, then his stare snaps away and scans the room. He pulls me closer to him and whispers in my ear, “I have something to tell you.”

I feel something I’ve never felt before. I go flush with an intense excitement, the kind of passionate fever that I’ve seen in films, in scenes preceding sex, yet never believed existed in real life. For a moment, I’m afraid.

“But not here.” His confident swagger seems to flag entirely as he bites his lip. “Let’s go to my room.”

3

Julius has the penthouse suite—a part of The Hotel that I’ve never been to before. It’s a completely open space, as large as The Hotel itself, almost a city block—I get dizzy looking around as we step out of the elevator.  There’re no walls, just a single twenty-foot high, conical glass window rising to a peak. At random spots around the suite there are free-standing spiral staircases holding up platforms with leather chairs and bookcases, or televisions. It’s an impossibly large room where all your entertainment needs hover around you like clouds. Some several dozen feet in front of us, at the center of the suite, is a bed as big as a room.

“I don’t know why they make it like this,” Julius says. “I mean, it’s an interesting concept, but it should have just stayed on paper. It’s a pain to use anything here.”

I laugh. “At least the bed’s on the ground.”

He nods. “So, would you like to take a shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be ready for you in just a few minutes.” I know he has something to tell me, but I’ll let him get to it in his time.

I toss off my clothes and hurry to the shower. It’s just a marked, slightly recessed space in the floor near the rising wall—the water falls warmly from what seems like empty space.  I look out over the dark, sprawling city, the crumbling tenements, the soft glow of blazing furnaces in the distance, a haze of deep, quiet devastation over it all. The way this room acts as a perfect cinema for watching all the city, I have to believe that my home is truly meant for rich and powerful men who delight in watching it wallow.

Yet, I can’t imagine that Julius enjoys it.  I want to turn around, to see if he’s ignoring the city, but I know the answer. I can feel his eyes trained on me, on my back. I move slowly, with what I hope is a sexual energy to make him ache. I bend over at the waist to wash between my thighs, and behind my knees, and down to my toes.

When I’m finished I step out and hot air is blasted over me, drying me quickly. Julius is standing by the bed, watching me, my new dress for the evening slung over one arm.

I place my hand on his arm over the dress. “Miss me?”

“Only when I blinked.”

I go to take the dress, but Julius lets it drop to the floor before my fingers can wrap around it. His lips are upon me, pressing hard against mine. There’s no finesse, just raw need. I meet him with equal fury and our tongues pierce inside each other’s mouths, dancing, or perhaps even fighting. I wrap my arms around him, clawing at his shoulder blades, tearing off his vest. I can feel his cock hard, pressing through his pants into my stomach.

Vest, tie, shirt—off. Pants—unbuckled, unzipped, removed. I begin to slither down his muscular chest, trailing kisses and flicks of my tongue along as I go. I feel the heat of his powerful manhood against my neck, and then my chin. I kiss over his short, neatly trimmed pubic hair and to the base of his cock. It throbs against the flesh of my soft throat as I carefully trace a line up his thick, beastly appendage. As I touch the tip with my lips, I leave a dramatic pause.

My mouth snaps open and slides just barely over the head before Julius has scooped me up and tossed me on the bed. He pushes open my thighs roughly. I’m wet enough already to take him right this moment, so I’m surprised when his face dives between my legs and settles on my soaking sex. His tongue circles my clit for a moment before slipping hungrily inside of me. My hands clamp down on his head as my back arches and I writhe against the pillow.

I’ve forgotten why I’m here. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. The only thing I can think of is this man I might love touching me in a way no one ever has. I’ve never been tasted there, and now I feel a pooling, burning heat building deep in my stomach.  It’s a desire that fills me with emptiness—I need to be filled. Somehow, I never want this to end, yet I need it to. It’s too much, I feel like I’m losing myself. Again, I’m afraid.

I tug at his hair as I try to shift my body under him. I need his cock inside me. It’s what I know—I know how to be pleasured by that. And I know how to give him pleasure that way.

His hand shoots up and presses down against my chest as he goes back to work, thrusting with his tongue, and gently letting his teeth graze against my labia. I groan and press back into the sheets, defeated, as his hand on my chest grasps a breast and massages, rolling my sensitive nipple between his fingers. Again, I feel my sense of self melt away in a blaze of pleasure. But this is a foreign pleasure. I don’t know how to use it.

His tongue drags down, just barely drawing it past the outer rim of my rosebud, then flattens against me and licks up and over my drippings before opening his mouth wide and pressing down, sucking deeply on my pussy.  As he sucks, he rubs his tongue against me and I swell, opening to him. He reaches his hands under me and pulls me into his mouth, driving his tongue deep inside.  It’s long and I can feel it work its way up inside me. He flicks his tongue in and out, like a small, sensual penis. He swirls around, careful to lick every inch of me that he can reach. My body trembles with the sensation and my hands fly down and clasp the back of his head, running my fingers through his thick hair.

My pussy convulses around him as his strong tongue licks me from the inside. My feet dig into the bed, the cool sheets moving against my feet and legs as my body fills with heat. He presses his tongue hard against the inside of my pussy, then drags out and up.  I have a moment of despair as he leaves my needy hole, but I’m thrown back into the thought-erasing heat of pleasure as the tip of his tongue flicks against my clit.

He attacks my engorged little nub, flicking and circling around it. I feel the inevitable orgasm welling within me. It’s burning deep and spreading outwards through my body and limbs. His tongue flattens and he licks me in long, deep slurps, dipping his tongue in and drawing it out and over my clit in one smooth motion. He does this again and again, in rapid succession until my whole body tenses and the wave of pleasure finally stretches out to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my hair and I explode in the blinding ecstasy of an awesome orgasm.

I press him away again and try to force him onto his back. But he’s far too large, too strong—he doesn’t move unless he wants to. He relents in mercy, but quickly crawls on top of me. I reach down and grasp his powerful dick.  It pulses, hard and warm, in my little hand as I pull it to the entrance of my desperate sex.

Julius’s eyes narrow and he growls. I feel a shiver shoot through me.

Then, he closes his eyes and slows his breathing. “Wait,” he says.

“What?” Did I fuck up? I’d panicked as he ate me out. I couldn’t think.

He rolls off of me, onto his back, and lays there, sprawled. He doesn’t look angry.

“Julius? What’s the matter?”

“Fuck.” He takes a long breath. “Fuck, Cal.”

I’m worried. I’m worried because I’m worried about him. I worry about food, warm clothes, making a buck. I don’t worry about people. But I’m worried about Julius—and that’s worrying.

“I need to tell you something, Cal. But I’m not sure if I should.”

“What is it? You can trust me.”

He rolls over so he is on top of me again. He’s soft now, but his body still radiates energy. “How do you feel about me?”

I balk. I can barely understand the question. “I… You’re a great customer. You’re wonderful. I enjoy the time I spend with you more than anyone else.”

“But that’s it? A customer?”

“What do you want me to say, Julius?” My eyebrows knit and I can feel my lips purse in stark refusal.

“Whatever’s true.” He’s staring into me, his dark pupils like drills.

“I’m a fucking whore, for chrissake! What do you want from me?” Subconsciously I hope this will stop the line of questioning that I’m afraid to follow much further.

He stares, unspeaking—yet anything but silent.

“You want to know that I’ve been wondering where the hell you’ve been for a year! You want to know that every time I’m at this Hotel I watch the television just so I can see what you’re up to! When I got out of the car and saw you standing there I felt weak. I felt things that I don’t know how to describe.”

He smiles softly, brushing my hair back behind an ear. “I need you, Cal. I love you.”

I feel one more heartbeat and then my body goes numb. I hear static in my head.

“I’m leaving this shithole moon tonight.” His face moves closer, his lips graze mine. “Forever.” It’s not a kiss. It’s something else. “I want to take you with me.”

4

The static becomes a roar.  Shock blends with uncertainty, a whirlpool of fear dragging me into a black depth. I am alone with my terror. By why? Why fear?

“Cal?” His face is as white as I imagine mine is. “Will you come?”

I push him away, and this time he moves with ease. I roll off the bed, covering myself with a wrap of the sheets. I’ve never hidden my nakedness before. “You don’t do that!” I’m screaming at him. “You don’t do that to an Ionian girl. You don’t play with our feelings that way, okay?”

“I’m not,” he protests.

“Fuck you!”

“Cal, what the hell is the matter? I mean, I was nervous, sure, but I was certain you’d be at least happy.”

“Cut it, Julius! Cut the shit.” I don’t know what I’m doing. These words are a reflex, like a bop on the knee. “I know what you off-worlders think of us down here. You don’t realize that we’re human. You think we’re just some kind of cogs, and we don’t feel, and you can just abuse us however you need. But that’s bullshit.”

He looks wounded. He is wounded. In the back of my head a voice is telling me to shut up.

“I saw your little act downstairs. The light brush, the soft touch. What the fuck was that? Hunh?”

Julius moves to the edge of the bed and stands up. He towers over me. He is wordless, again. He bends down, pulling my mouth towards his and kisses me.

I’m lost. I feel myself go limp and fall into his embrace. He pulls me on top of him as we crash into the bed.

The kiss breaks. One of his arms is around my waist, the other is along my face, hand wrapped over my hair, thumb brushing back and forth over my forehead as he stares into my eyes. He kisses me between the brows. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I tell myself that it’s just another outburst.  I tell myself it’s nothing—but it’s everything. I tell myself that it’s a nasty lie I’ll use to get off of Io—but really it’s the truth. It’s perhaps the truest thing I’ve ever said—or felt.

I feel him growing firm beneath me, rising and parting my thighs. I moan as the force of his erection slips up between my legs and nestles along the dampness of my slit.

I rock my hips, letting his cock spring up, and then rock back, letting the tip drag along my sensitive flesh. I push, the head slipping carefully into the folds of my hot sex.

He groans beneath me. It’s a deep, animal groan and I feel it vibrate in his chest against my nipples. I nuzzle my face into his neck, grinning as the stubble scratches me there.

I slide, slowly, onto his cock, feeling the way it pierces me, stretches me, fills me. I’m in love not just with Julius, but with the way this sex feels different from anything else before. I feel close all of a sudden.  I don’t feel like a wound sheath for a plunging sword, but rather that I am accepting him into me, that something is being made of this. I am a sheath, protecting and proper.  It’s a wonderful feeling, looking down from my perch on his hips to see him smiling.

He bottoms out in me and I gasp as the pressure and fullness overwhelms me. Yes, I’ll ride his hips all the way to a beach on Earth. I’ll ride this love all the way there. That’s what I tell myself. These feelings, these sensations are absurd. But if they get me off this fucking moon, then so be it.

Julius pulls me towards him, crushing me to his chest as he takes control. His hips slide up and down, working his beautiful cock in and out of my dripping lust. I clench around him, squeezing with the muscles inside of me. He cries out at the hot, wet pressure I’ve put around him and I feel his cock jump and grow even harder.

I press back, sinking completely onto his erection as I bring my feet under me so I can hover over him. I lean against him, hands pressed against his powerful chest, as I bounce along his length. I’m able to lift my whole waist like this and it gives my breasts a little heave-ho, which I can tell by the smile pleases Julius immensely.

I rise just barely off his cock, so the tip teases at the very edge of my sticky lips. He’s rock hard, straight at attention, and I gently slide back and forth, teasing the tip of him with the edge of me. I focus on the emptiness I feel all of a sudden, without him inside me. Then, I slam back down, hard, feeling the wet, matted coolness of his pubic hair against my ass where my juices have soaked him.

Pressed all the way down, I move my hips in a luxurious circle, using his cock to stir my insides, to hit every soft, tender spot that it can. I start to feel a warmth, a glowing, in my loins.

Julius pushes me up and sits so now I have my legs wrapped around his waist and we’re grinding against each other, his cock tilted inside of me, pressing against my g-spot, sending a flare of pleasure rocketing into my brain. My clit rubs against the base of his cock as we rock together.

He leans his head down and takes my right breast into his mouth and sucks deeply. His tongue lashes across my hard, sensitive nipple. His teeth clamp ever so gently, sensually over my soft flesh.

The warmth in my loins is spreading, burning. I feel like a tree on fire, agonizing pleasure reaching out from my core through every branch of my body, tingling down my thighs, up my neck, through my arms to my fingertips.  Tendrils of blinding pleasure whip about me and I start to lose myself again. I feel as if I am melting into him. Our sweaty bodies pressed against each other, sliding effortlessly together. His cock is perfect and massive inside, touching every part of me that needs to be touched. His mouth is on my shoulder now, biting into me—he’s on the verge, ready to cum. The bite hurts, but that too melts into the blazing mélange of sensation. Every nerve is working overtime, and it’s as if there is no pleasure and no pain—just pure sexual energy.

I fall backwards, my hands around his neck to pull him on top of me. I want him to lose himself inside of me. He pounds—hard, fast. His hips slam into my clit mercilessly, cock plunging to the very depths of my soaking cunt. I fold my legs back, knees to shoulders, and Julius puts his arms on either side of them, pinning them down with his body as he wraps his hands behind my back and pulls me into him.  I’m wide open to his cock and I can feel his balls slapping against my ass. He fucks me faster, harder, deeper. Our foreheads press together and we’re staring into each other’s eyes. I can see the desperate need to cum, and I’m certain he can see the boiling orgasm in me.

I try to hold his gaze, but my eyes roll back in my head and my lips sputter as I gibber.  Finally, he cums. His cock, impossibly, grows and hardens inside me as he gives me one more good thrust, filling me wholly, flooding me with his cum. At that first orgasmic cry my pussy clamps down on his cock and I too roar out as my whole world exploded in a violent reaction of the most wonderful pleasure I’ve never been able to imagine. My fingernails dig deep into his back as I hold on, pawing, scratching as the first wave of orgasm crashes against my psyche. Then the second wave hits and it obliterates me in a flash that’s less tangible, like a flash of light and darkness at the same time. Then, I am without edges, without form, wafting in a sea of contentedness. 

I settle into this wonderful feeling for a while.  I don’t know how long.  We have rolled, together, onto our side during our orgasm and we remain entwined for a while.  I don’t want it to end. I know that when we break this embrace he’ll tell me it was just a joke, just a sexual kink, a way of roleplaying. 

I want to believe I’m heading for Earth for just a little while longer. So I believe.

We roll, limply apart onto our backs, cool air rushing over our sweaty forms shocking us back to reality.

When our breathing steadies, Julius rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. “Hey, how about we enjoy a shower together,” he says. “Then we’ll throw on our clothes and head for the car.”