Mary wished her room wasn’t also on the twelfth floor. She’d already had the conversation with Ponter about why there was no thirteenth floor. But if therehad been a thirteenth floor, maybe she would have been on that one instead. It didn’t matter; she wasn’t superstitious-although, she reflected, Ponter would say shewas . By his definition, everyone who believed in God was superstitious.
Still, if she’d been on another floor-anyother floor-then their good night would be short and sweet. Just a jaunty wave and a “See you tomorrow” from whichever of them happened to get out first.
The boxy LED 8 above the doors lost a segment, becoming a 9.
But this way,thought Mary,there would have to be more.
She felt the elevator come to a stop, and the doors shuddered open. Waiting there was Agent Burstein. Mary nodded at him. She half hoped he would fall in beside Ponter and walk along the corridor with them, but he seemed content to stay by the elevator station.
And so, Ponter and Mary headed down the corridor, past the alcove with the ice machine, past room after room, until...
“Well,” said Mary, heart pounding. She fished in her purse for her card key, “this one is mine.”
She looked at Ponter. Ponter looked at her. He never got his key out early; it was always the last thing he thought of, coming from a world where few doors had locks, and those that did opened to signals from Companions.
Ponter said nothing. “So,” she said, awkwardly, “I guess this is good night.”
Ponter was still silent as he reached over and touched her hand, deftly extracting the card key. He pressed it into the lock and waited for the LED to flash. He then reached for the handle and opened the door, letting it swing wide.
Mary found herself looking over her shoulder, checking to see if the corridor was empty. Of course, there was the ever-present FBI man. She was hardly comfortable about that, but at least it wasn’t one of the paleoanthropologists...
Ponter’s hand now slid up Mary’s arm, slowly, gently, and reached her shoulder. He then moved it oh so gently to the side of her face, sweeping her hair behind her ear.
And then, it finally happened.
His face came in toward hers, and his mouth touched her mouth, and Mary felt a wave of pleasure sweep over her body. His arms were around her now, and hers around him, and-
And Mary couldn’t really say who was leading, but they danced sideways together, still embracing, through the door, and Ponter gently kicked it shut with his foot.
Suddenly, Ponter reached down and swept Mary up in his arms, carrying her, as if she were no heavier than a child, past the bathroom and over to the queen-sized bed, where he gently laid her down on top of the sheets.
Mary’s heart was pounding even harder than before. She hadn’t felt this way for twenty years, not since her very first time with Donny when his parents were away for the weekend.
Ponter hovered over her for a second, his eyebrow lifted questioningly, giving her a chance to stop things from going further. Mary smiled a little and reached up, slipping her arms around his massive neck, pulling him down toward her.
For a moment, Mary expected them to act out one of those scenes she’d seen so many times in movies but had never had the chance to play in real life, clothes magically melting off them as they rolled over and over on the sheets.
But that was not to be. Mary realized that Ponter really had no idea about undoing buttons, and was fumbling horribly, although she did enjoy the feeling of his knuckles bouncing against her breasts as he tried.
For her part, Mary had hoped to do a little better, having been instructed by Hak after the shooting in how to open the shoulder seals on a Neanderthal shirt. But the last time she’d done that, it had been broad daylight. Now, though, she and Ponter were mostly in the dark. Neither of them had turned on the room lights when they’d come in; the only illumination was what spilled in through the windows, whose heavy brown curtains weren’t drawn.
They had rolled so that Mary was on top now, and she maneuvered until she was sitting up, straddling Ponter’s chest. She reached for the top button on her blouse. It came free easily, and Mary looked down. She could see her little gold crucifix-the one she’d bought recently to replace the one she’d given Ponter on his first visit-sitting against the inverted triangle of white flesh the opening in her shirt exposed.
She undid a second button, and the shirt fell open wider, revealing parts of her plain white bra.
Mary looked down at Ponter, trying to read his expression, but he was looking at her chest, such as it was, and the overhang of his browridge made it impossible for her to see his eyes. Was he looking at her with pleasure, or with dismay? She had no idea how buxom Neanderthal women usually were, but judging by Ambassador Prat, they had a lot of body hair, and Mary’s chest was hairless.
And then, in the half darkness, she heard Ponter speak, in his own voice, “You are beautiful.”
Mary felt the concern, the inhibition, draining from her. She undid the remaining buttons and then reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She let it slide off her breasts, and Ponter’s hands moved up her stomach, reaching them, cupping them, weighing them in his hands. And then he pulled her down, shimmying her down his torso, and his wide mouth found her left breast, and Mary gasped, and he sucked its entirety into his mouth and teased and caressed it with his tongue.
And then his mouth shifted to her right breast, his tongue tracing a wet path across the flatness between the two of them, and he found her other nipple and drew it between his lips and sucked gently on it, and Mary felt electricity running up and down her spine.
Although Ponter was still fully clothed, Mary could feel his erection pressing against her thigh. She was suddenly desperate to see it; she’d seen him naked before, when they were quarantined together at Reuben’s house, but never when he was aroused. She pushed herself up with her arms, her nipple slipping from between Ponter’s lips, and shifted herself down his frame so that her hands were free to work upon his waist. But she was flummoxed about how to undo his pants; he’d shed his medical belt as soon as he arrived in the room, but his pants lacked a clasp-although the bulge of his penis was certainly obvious.
Ponter laughed, reached down, and did something to the garment, and suddenly it was loose about his waist. He arched his back and pulled it down over his hips, and-
And apparently Neanderthals didn’t wear underwear.
Ponter was massive-thick and long. He was uncircumcised although his purpling glans was sticking well past the foreskin just now. Mary ran the flat of her hand slowly down the length of his penis, feeling it move with each beat of his heart.
She then shifted off of him, and helped pull his pants the rest of the way down. His feet were enclosed in pouches attached to the pant legs, belted tight in two places, but he quickly dealt with those. Now, he was naked from the waist down-and Mary was naked from the waist up. She slipped her legs off the bed, and stood up, quickly kicking off her shoes and unfastening her skirt, which she let drop to the floor. Ponter’s eyes were locked on her body, and she saw them go wide. Mary looked down and laughed; she was wearing simple beige panties and in the dim light it looked as though she was completely smooth and featureless down there. She hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband, and pulled the panties down, revealing-
She’d heard that it was fashionable these days for women to trim away much of their pubic hair; she’d once heard Howard Stern refer to what was left as a “landing strip.” But Mary did nothing but neaten up the edges when she shaved her legs, and for the first time, she realized, Ponter was seeing thick body hair on a Gliksin female. He smiled, clearly delighted by the discovery, and rolled off the bed, standing as well. He touched the shoulders of his upper garment in a certain way, and they split open like Bruce Banner’s shirt, falling apart, and dropping to the carpeted floor.
And now they were standing, with a meter between them, both completely naked, except for Ponter’s Companion and the
bandage on Ponter’s shoulder, where he’d been shot. Ponter closed the distance between them, taking Mary again in his arms, and they tumbled sideways onto the bed.
Mary wanted him inside her-but not yet, not so soon. They had lots of time, and whatever tiredness had originally prompted Mary to call it a night had completely evaporated. But, still, how did Neanderthals make love? What, if anything was taboo, or considered disgusting? She decided to let Ponter lead, but he, too, was hesitating, presumably concerned by the same question, and finally Mary found herself doing something she’d never initiated before, working her tongue down Ponter’s muscular, hairy torso, across the washboard contours of his stomach. After a moment’s hesitation, giving Ponter a chance to stop her should he wish, she opened her mouth wide and slid it over his penis.
Ponter let out a contented sigh. Mary had performed fellatio before on Colm, but always halfheartedly, doing it because she knew he enjoyed it but deriving no pleasure from the process herself. This time, though, she devoured Ponter eagerly, passionately, enjoying the rhythmic bobbing of his massive organ and the salt taste of his skin. But she didn’t want to finish him this way, and, if he were half as excited as she was, he would doubtless come soon if she continued. Mary let his penis exit her mouth in one long, slow, final slurp, and she looked up at him and smiled. He rolled her over and reciprocated, his tongue finding her clitoris at once and flicking against it. She gasped a little-only because she made a conscious effort not to gasp a lot. Ponter alternated between rapidly moving his tongue up and down and nibbling at her labia.
Mary was enjoying every second of it, but she didn’t want to come this way, not her first time with him. She wanted himinside her. Ponter seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing, as he lifted his face from her and looked up, his beard glistening in the darkness with her moisture.
She’d expected him to simply shimmy up toward her, pushing his penis within as he did so, but he suddenly rolled her on her front. Mary gasped again, but this time just in surprise. She’d never had anal sex before and wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to. But suddenly Ponter’s hands were sliding over her bottom, reaching around front, and pulling her up so that she was squatting on all fours, and his long penis pushed into her vagina from behind. Mary found herself grunting as she took his girth, but she was also relieved that they hadn’t moved into new sexual territory. His hands reached from behind, cupping her breasts as he pumped in and out of her. Mary and Colm had occasionally tried it doggy style, but Colm’s penis hadn’t been long enough to really please her when they did it like that. But Ponter-
Wonderful, wonderful Ponter!
In her fantasies of this moment-fantasies she’d tried to dismiss from her mind each time they’d occurred-she’d always pictured them doing it in the missionary position, his mouth smothering hers as he jack hammered into her, but-
But it was called the missionary position for a reason; it wasn’t the favored sexual posture even everywhere on this Earth.
Ponter must have been wondering about the same thing. He spoke softly, and Hak translated just as softly. Still, the realization that Ponter’s Companion was conscious of everything they were doing caused Mary’s back to stiffen for a moment. She’d never done it with anyone watching before, and she’d successfully dissuaded Colm the two times he’d broached the topic of videotaping their lovemaking.
“Is this,” Hak’s voice had said, on Ponter’s behalf, “how you do it?”
Mary tried to push the thought of Hak out of her mind, and said, “Actually, we tend to do it face to face.”
“Ah,” said Ponter, and Mary felt him pull out of her. She thought he was simply going to roll her onto her back, but he stood up next to the bed, and held a hand out to her. Perplexed, Mary reached up and took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet, his hard penis bumping against her soft belly. He then reached down with both massive hands, cupping each of her cheeks in one, and lifting her clear off the ground. Mary’s legs naturally swung wide, encircling his waist, and he lowered her onto his penis, effortlessly lifting her up and down its length over and over again as he stood. Their lips moved together, and as they kissed, and as her heart pounded and his chest heaved, she came with a great shuddering sensation, moaning despite herself, and once she was done, Ponter increased the rate of his up/down oscillations even more, and Mary pulled away from him a bit, looking at his face, his gorgeous golden eyes locked on her, as his body racked in orgasm. And, at last, they tumbled sideways onto the bed, and he held her, and she held him.
Chapter Twenty-six
Mary and Ponter never had bothered to close the heavy drapes in the hotel room, and so when the sun came up, Mary found herself awake, and she could see that Ponter was awake, too. “’Morning,” she said, looking at him. But he had apparently been conscious for some time, and when he turned his head to face her, tears rolled out of the deep wells that contained his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mary, gently wiping away the moisture with the back of her hand.
“Nothing,” said Ponter.
Mary made a show of frowning. “Nothing my foot,” she said. “What is it?”
“I am sorry,” said Ponter. “Last night...”
Mary felt her heart sink. She’d thought it had been wonderful. Hadn’t he shared that opinion? “What about it?”
“I am sorry,” he said again. “It was the first time I had been with a woman since...”
Mary’s eyebrows shot up, getting it. “Since Klast died,” she finished softly.
Ponter nodded. “I miss her very much,” he said.
Mary laid an arm across his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his every breath. “I’m sorry I never got to meet her,” she said.
“Forgive me,” said Ponter. “You are here; Klast is not. I should not be...”
“No, no, no,” said Mary, softly. “It’s all right. It’s fine. I love...” She stopped herself short. “I love that you have such deep feelings.”
She drew her arm tighter about his chest, pulling herself closer to him. She couldn’t blame him for thinking of his late wife; after all, it hadn’t beenthat long since she’d died, and-
And suddenly Mary thought of the one thing thathadn’t come to mind since Ponter took her in his arms out in the corridor, the one faceless presence from her past that hadn’t invaded their time together. But she found she could quickly dismiss that thought, and, with her arm on Ponter, and one of his, now, resting along her naked back, she fell asleep again, absolutely at peace.
“So you and this female Gliksin had intimate relations?” said Selgan, apparently trying to control his surprise.
Ponter nodded.
“But...”
“What?” demanded Ponter.
“But she...she is a Gliksin.” Selgan paused, then lifted his shoulders. “She is of a different species.”
“She ishuman,”said Ponter firmly.
“But...”
“I will hear no buts!” said Ponter. “She is human. They areallhumans, these people of the other world.”
“If you say so. And yet-“
“You don’t know them,” said Ponter. “You haven’t met even one of them. They are people. They areus.”
“You sound defensive about this,” said Selgan.
Ponter shook his head. “No. You have perhaps been right about other things, but not about this. I have no doubt in my mind. Mare Vaughan, Lou Benoît, Reuben Montego, Hélène Gagné, and all the others I met over there-they are human beings. You will come to know that; all of our people will come to know that.”
“And yet you were crying.”
“It was as I said to Mary. I was remembering Klast.”
“You weren’t feeling guilty?”
“About what?”
“Two were not One at this time.”
Ponter frowned. “Well, I suppose that’s true. I mean, I never thought about it. In the Gliksin world, males and females spend the entire month together, and...”
&nb
sp; “And when in Bistob, do as the Bistobians do?”
Ponter shrugged. “Exactly.”
“Do you think your man-mate would have shared your view of this?”
“Oh, Adikor wouldn’t have minded. In fact, he’d have been thrilled. He’s been wanting me to find a new woman, and well...”
“Well what?”
“Better a Gliksin when Two were supposed to be separate, than Daklar Bolbay at any time of the month. That would be his perspective, I’m sure.”
Mary and Ponter finally emerged from the hotel room. They’d missed the first three papers being presented that morning, but that was all right; Mary had downloaded the PDF file containing the abstracts prior to their leaving New York, and knew that the morning sessions were devoted toHomo erectus and some attempts to resurrectHomo ergaster as a valid separate species. No DNA had ever been recovered from either of these ancient forms, so Mary wasn’t particularly interested in them.
As they came down the corridor, one of the FBI men appeared. “Envoy Boddit,” he said, “this just came for you via FedEx from Sudbury.”
The man held out a diplomatic pouch. Ponter took the bag, opened it, and extracted a memory bead. He turned it over in his hand. “I should really listen to this.”
Mary grinned. “Well, I certainly don’t want to hear you being yelled at. I’m going to go and look at the poster displays.”
Ponter smiled and went to his hotel room. The FBI man stood at attention in the corridor, and Mary proceeded to the elevator station.
The lift came. Mary headed down to the mezzanine where the Association of American Archeology poster displays were being set up. That conference didn’t really start until tomorrow, and she and Ponter weren’t going to stay for it, but several exhibitors had already put up their posters. Mary stood looking at a pair of panels about Hopi pottery.
After a while, though, she got worried about Ponter, and so she headed back up to the twelfth floor.