Unmask! · Part 1 (1/2)
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Journal Entry 030/0477
"P'nyssa!" I perched on the edge of the g-tube to the bedroom. "Can I come down?"
"Don't come down yet!" was the answer I got.
"I'd like to use the bathroom!" I shouted.
"Use the one next door! Just don't come down here!"
I grumbled to myself about women and their incessant need to take forever to dress. "Dave," I said, addressing the household AI.
"The door's unlocked, Ken."
"Thanks." I walked back to our tiny kitchen and opened the door the P'nyssa's old quarters next door. When she'd moved in with me she started to use it less and less, so eventually we just moved all of her stuff over into my quarters and closed up. I suppose that someone else could have used it over the years, but nobody ever asked for it. After Richard and P'raine were born we used it as a nursery, but that had been years ago, and although P'nyssa and I have discussed children since then, we haven't gone ahead with the idea. Don't know why. Someday, though, we will again. We'll have to. It's too much in her, and I think it's too much in me, too.
But at the moment the room is empty; the walls are bare metal; all the natural wood paneling and stonework and wallpaper are gone; the kitchen appliances are quiet and dead. The lights came on minimally as I walked in and I felt confident in using the gravitics tube to the downstairs bedroom.
Downstairs was more of the same. The room was completely deserted. The bathroom didn't look familiar. At one time Richard and Rainy's toothbrushes had been on the sink, the soap sloppy everywhere, towels on the floor, absurd science-fiction wallpaper on the walls, but not anymore. I wanted to call it a restroom, the distinction being that a restroom is an efficient place for quick operation; a bathroom is a place where one is most Human, or Tindal, or whatever. One does not get into the shower of a restroom to fondle one's partner lovingly, but that certainly happens in my bathroom.
I quickly relieved myself and made my way back out. I wondered idly what I could do with this extra space, but soon moved on. I hadn't done anything with this space in decades; there was no reason to change now.
So I soon found myself back in our own quarters, waiting on the living room couch for my lover who had taken so long to get ready. It finally took me by surprise when I heard "I'm ready!"
I waited for her to come up through the hole in the floor, and when she finally rose to full height and the support field snapped on underneath her my jaw hit the floor.
"What do you think?" She asked.
I was stunned. She wore white, everything bright, clean white. And nobody wears white like P'nyssa. The contrast with her indigo blue fur was perfect. She wore 4cm high heels, which while not drastically high it's high for her; she's the sneaker type. Her pants were bleached white form-fitting denim, but not tight around her legs, and she wore a full shirt with silver cufflinks and studs, white bow tied with silver band, and a perfectly cut full-tailed tuxedo jacket that I guessed was doeskin. Her only piece of jewelry was "Dragon", the polished pewter earring I'd given her three centuries ago, in the right ear. Her black hair had been teased out to frame her face and fell over the white leather in magnificent contrast.
I fought for my voice. "Uhm… Uh… You look wonderful," I finally managed to say.
She smiled. "I hope I have that same effect on the rest of the party tonight."
"You should wear that more often," I said.
"If I wore it more often, you'd get used to it, silly. And I certainly don't want that." She laughed quietly. "You look wonderful, too."
"Do you really like it? It's not too militaristic?"
"What? A Fleet Uniform? You're a full commander; you deserve it. And the blue and and white go well with me. We'll make quite a striking pair tonight." I chuckled back in response.
I brushed what was left of my hair into place. P'nyssa had insisted on cutting most of it off; if this was to be a masked ball then I had certainly be more incognito then usual, and for the past hundred years or so people had been seeing me in long hair. "If you'd cut any more off, I'd be bald."
"I left you plenty. And it'll grow back. A year from now it'll be down your back, and you know it." And I did know it; everything on me grows fast; hair, nails, and unfortunately, teeth.
"By the way," she continued, "how do I look?" She took the light leather mask and put it over her eyes, adjusting it so she could see.
I laughed. "What's so funny?" she asked.
"You look like P'nyssa Traken."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, you look like a Traken, sweetheart. The white leather just covers up the albino patches around your eyes. Okay, your patches aren't as big as the mask, and they don't come together over the bridge of your nose the way the mask does. And I suppose every Tindal there will be wearing something similar, but it does make you look like… you, or some other fem in your family."
She smiled. "Good. Just what I wanted."
As we walked toward the SDisk, that comment ran through my mind over and over, and as it did, it became more and more cryptic.
When we got to the party, I was sure there was more to it than just my natural paranoia. Richard and Susan had decided to throw their fourth-century anniversary party in truly grand fashion, and the Reedhon Castle courtyard was positively packed with people, all dressed in the strange to sublime.
I was enormously pleased to see that most people had gone the formal masked-ball route, and only a few had gone to truly costumely lengths, although those that had had chosen historical formals to go to. I even saw a few people in Heinlein full formal, and they looked comfortable, which made me comfortable. The masks went from the simple eyepiece (like mine and P'nyssa's) to full headresses. Despite the nature of the party, I did not see Uncia wearing scars they did not deserve, but the number of people in drag amazed me.
Fashion on Pendor is much slower than on other worlds, but it has some definable patterns, and at present there were very set male and female fashions; people at this party were going out of their way to achieve androgyny. Apparently P'nyssa had caught wind, with her very feminine tuxedo. I saw Felinzi with complete watercolors airbrushed into their fur. Mostly Taoist themes, too. Seems Tao and Zen had taken Felinzi culture by storm the past two years.
But what made my curiosity go sky-high was that I saw not one, or two, but at least five Tindals wearing the exact same thing P'nyssa had on. At first I had thought I was just seeing Nyss over and over, but I saw two of them talking together, and neither of them had the earring. Well, they had earrings, but not "Dragon." And one of them was most definitely male.
Dinner was okay; I think the poultry was a tad under-done, but then maybe I got an Uncia's plate by mistake. Can't expect the caterers to get everything right. But my dinner companions were pleasant enough; to my right was a Markal fem named Tavvi with a ton of piercings in her large rodentine ears, and to my left a femSsphynx whose voice reminded me of a young lady I'd once known only by the name of Fading Breezes. Unfortunately, I had no opportunity to get to know either of these ladies very well since I was situated across from an apparently just post-adolescent angry-at-the-universe-in-general Centaur who recognized me and my uniform and seemed quite intent on pestering me. It was all I could do to concentrate on teasing the Markal under the table, tickling her very exposed thigh. I'm glad the miniskirt is back.
After desert (and some incredible double entendres' from the Ssphynx, considering it was only cherry pie a la mode), I advised the young Mel that when he grow up he volunteer for the Fleet before opening his mouth. He took affront to that, predictably, and I fully expected the phrase "affaire' de honor." But he passed. Lucky him. It's been a while since I've picked up any sort of sword, but I've got a lot more years on the boy, and age and treachery and all that rot.
I danced for a while with the young Markal lady, and she was intent on teasing me with her tail, which kept coming around us. I found her a wonderful dancer, and let her lead. After a while, though, there was a soft tap on my shoulder, and one of the "Tindal Clones," as I'd started to label them, stood behind me. "May I have this dance?" she asked.
Her voice did nothing to give her away. She was almost completely unknown to me. I suddenly recognized another reason behind the tuxedo; it covered everything, and I couldn't get a clear look to see any of the familiar fur patterns that sometimes mark a Tindal. But there was this niggling thought in the back of my mind that told me I should damn well know who this was.
She was experienced on the dancefloor, and she took my breath away with her sensuous hips and white gloves. I enjoyed the music pouring through the room and the feeling of her body pressed against mine when the music slowed. And she proved to me, once and for all, that anyone can tango if their partner is good enough. Because I cannot tango.
We sat and drank champagne, telling outrageous lies as we were allowed by the masked ball. She told me she was a geologist for the Fleet; I told her I was an explorer, once with The Eldarfaroth, but now living quietly here on Pendor. We exchanged tales; both of us had helped Hall-walkers. She was born before the 'Opening'. I told her I was born in 52, she said 68. Basically, I think we lied through our respective teeth.
But her company was comforting and pleasant, especially after that damned Centaur boy, and I was getting a little high from the alcohol and leaned over to kiss her. She acted as if she had fully expected that, leaning into the kiss and opening her mouth against mine. I replied, inviting her tongue into my mouth, feeling it against mine but not really concentrating on how or where it went.
"I know of a few empty rooms in Reedhon Castle, if you'd like to go someplace more private," she said.
I gave it all of one second to run through my brain. "Of course," I said. "After you."
She stood and took my hand in hers, leading me past the crowds clustered around the various hors d'oeuvre tables and champagne bottles. We made our way into the sideroom, which held mostly the more tired partygoers, sitting around quietly talking or communicating in more physical, but undemanding, manners. The doors were opened to the outside, and I saw two Centaurs walking through the garden that I swear had been made for occasions such as this. Down the hill the river trickled by.
She (I had no name for her yet, but she still seemed familiar) led me up the creaky wooden stairs to a small hallway that I had to duck under to get through, and down a slate stone hallway to a large wooden door with a very typical doorknob. We walked in and the lights came up slowly, soft white light from several candles illuminating a room done in winecolor. The floor was still slate, but I knew it would never be cold under my feet. The centerpiece to the room was a huge four-poster bed with canopy. There was one large mirror. A small door led off to what had to be (and I had to call) the garderobe.
She closed the door behind her as I crossed the room to the bed. I sat down and she walked to me, leaned over and kissed me again. I reached up to ruffle the fur at her neckline and was surprised to feel something else under the cloth, something that felt like a collar, the more erotic kind. I wondered if she had a master or mistress somewhere who had put her up to this.
She must have noted my attention, because she said quietly, "You may undo me, sir, but not the collar or the mask." Well, that answered my first question, the one I wasn't going to ask aloud. I reached up while her mittens slowly stroked down my back and one at a time removed the silver studs from her shirt and undid the tie. The collar underneath was a thin wide band of black leather. I opened her belt and pants as she stepped out of her shoes. The jacket and shirt fell to the floor, and I pulled her down to the bed, making it easier for me to strip off her pants.
Even if she was someone's slave, she wasn't mine. She pushed me over and down onto the bed to show me that fact. "Lie down and relax," she said in a calm voice. She swung one leg over my chest, straddling me facing away. I had a clear and magnificent view of her buttocks before she slowly sat down on my face, obscuring my vision completely. She pulled her legs in tight to block up my hearing, as well. "Lick me," she said. It sounded more like a plea than a command, but it was to be obeyed, and I did, opening my mouth as far as I could and reaching out with my tongue to slide it over her clit and up into the fleshy depths of her pussy.
She leaned forward, clearing my eyes a little, but all I could see was her furry buttocks and back and the canopy of the bed. I did my best to lick her in that awkward position, and I felt I would drown; she was very wet. I also had to breathe through my mouth since my nose was completely covered by her ass.
My attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of the door being opened. Aghast at being caught in this awkward position, I tried to get the young fem's attention, but she held my arms down and said, in that same calm voice, "Quiet." The other person came in and touched my leg, running a mitten (yes, mitten… another Tindal) along the material of my uniform. She addressed my pleasant captor and at least identified herself as a her. Great. I smell a rat, and her name is P'nyssa.
The other reached under the diagonal clasp of my jacket and unzipped it. I heard a small expression of frustration, and I guess it was that the shirt for the uniform is a turtleneck. She turned to my boots and removed them, then the socks. She opened my pants and slid them off. At the moment I was unerect, but she curled her mitten around my cock and began to stroke me, very slowly, sliding the skin up and over the head and then back down, and soon that was rectified.
There was a shuffling, and then the new one straddled my legs along with the first, except I could feel her feet back along my legs and I knew she was facing my captor, who was not paying much attention to my needs and was occasionally cutting off my air supply. I found it frustratingly exciting, especially since I was now completely volunteering for this. If I weren't, I'd have fought them off and left a long time ago. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get me into this bed, and my curiosity, not to mention ego and libido, were piqued.
The other one (I wish I had names!) slid up and took hold of my cock, coming down and sliding me into her. I felt her warm cunt surround me and her full weight came down onto my hips. The bed creaked underneath us. The one I was eating got up for a second, giving me a clear view of yet another Tindal In White Leather, still wea
Unmask! · Part 1 (1/2)
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