Kiini Salaam - Ancient, Ancient

“So,” Fogo said after Laki had drunken her fill, “what brings you to the Velvet Stretch?”

Laki turned away. “It’s a long and tragic story. I’d rather not go into it.”

“But, you shouldn’t be hanging out here. You look like you’re almost to maturation, if you’re not there yet. No profession as far as I can tell.” His eyes roamed up to the ceiling of her pod. “No marriage belt?”

Laki walked to the center of their conjoined pods and sat on the floor. She leaned back on the palms of her hands. Her gaze wandered over the bare stretches of his neck, lingering over his throat and collarbone. She explored the cut of his arms, the length of his legs.

“You are not fond of this topic?” he asked.

Laki looked down at her waist. She rubbed her finger over the space where Pemfi’s marriage belt would be resting had she accepted it, and shrugged. “Marriage belts are useless. I just turned one down.”

Fogo drew back, “You aren’t one of those mother-unit radicals, are you?”

Laki placed her hands flat on the floor. She stretched, lifting her hips until her legs were fully extended. She stood and walked slowly over to Fogo. She stopped when her face was a few breaths from his.

“Do I look like a fucking mother-unit radical to you?”

Fogo shook his head before speaking. “No, no you don’t.”

Laki put her arms around Fogo and grasped his hips. She felt the ravenous lust of her younger days rising from slumber. Maturation was at her back. Why not? she thought. Why not? She flicked her tongue over his lips.

“So are you hanging out rendezvous-less because you want to be alone or…”

Fogo drew away.

“Forgive me, but a woman of your… stature really shouldn’t be here. Unless you think this is preferable to marriage, but even this doesn’t last forever.”

“Auggh,” Laki groaned and threw her hands up in the air. She strode over to her pod and leaned back to begin de-fusing. “Fogo,” she said, “It was wonderful meeting you.” She crossed her arms and waited for the pods to separate.

“Wait,” Fogo yelled. He grabbed his marriage belt and jumped into her pod. “I didn’t mean to irritate you, it’s just that…”

“Look,” she said, “I’m three days from maturation, and you’re sexy as hell. No, I don’t have a profession. No, I don’t have a marriage belt. In three, no, two days I’m going to join a mother-unit, but whether or not I should be here is none of your business!”

Fogo wrapped his arms around Laki’s waist and squeezed her softly.

“Shhhh,” he said, “shhh. I didn’t mean to upset you. Put your arms up.”

Laki put her arms up. “Maturation! It’s all anybody wants to talk about. When did the Velvet Stretch become such a defect?” She felt Fogo lifting his hands behind her. Then he was maneuvering something over her head. “What are you doing?”

She looked down and saw his marriage belt shining gold around her waist. She felt a wild burst of adrenaline pulse through her chest.

Fogo stepped back, eyeing the full length of her. “Very sexy.”

Laki opened her mouth, but could not speak—she could only sputter.

“Bet that doesn’t happen often.”

“What, I get to try on some rich guy’s marriage belt?”

“No, you are rendered speechless.” Fogo grabbed the belt and pulled her to him. “So you want to get sent into the mother-unit with a bang?”

Laki stared into his face, then started laughing. “This is unbelievable.”

She flicked her hand over the time module, but no time appeared. Fogo grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“Let’s do this by starlight,” he murmured.

He waved his hand behind him, and his pod went dark. He rubbed his pelvis against hers softly. Whatever reservations Laki had been harboring dissolved instantly. Laki extinguished the light in her pod, and the glow of the Stretch illuminated their pods, bathing them in starlight.

For a few brief seconds there was no movement. Laki and Fogo just stood there drinking each other in. Then Laki grabbed the front of his cloth and pulled him close. She pressed her lips against his, urgently and impatiently, but he was full of unhurried languor. When she offered him her mouth, he savored it, sucking gently on her lips while she was anxiously pushing her tongue through his teeth. Laki abruptly pulled away.

“I…”

“I know, you’ve got a pod full of props and a few ideas about how this should go down.”

Surprise, then annoyance rippled over Laki’s face. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you,” he said. “You’re used to being in control.”

“You don’t know me,” Laki repeated.

He knitted his fingers through hers and kneeled, forcing her down to the floor with him. He pushed her shoulders back, nudging her to lie on her back.

“Let me run this one,” he whispered.

Laki opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind. Instead, she made a big show of spreading her arms over her head in surrender. Fogo ran his fingers over the closures of her vest, but it didn’t open. He rubbed his hands together to create more heat and tried again.

“If you really knew me,” she said running her hand along the front of his jumpsuit—the cloth parted and hung open, “you’d know that I wouldn’t allow my cloths to open for anyone but me.”

She brushed her hands over her vest and the cloth slid open. She lifted up slightly and waited. He maneuvered the vest off her arms. With a coy finger pressed to her lips, she slowly opened her knees to reveal buttons lining her legs from her inner thighs to her ankles.

“Nice boots.” He reached out to run his hands over the buttons, then paused.

“Would you?”

With one finger extended, Laki ran her hand along the closures of her boots. Buttons, from the crease of her pelvis to her knee, popped open. Fogo rolled the leather down, then pulled off the boots. His hands hovered over her shorts.

Laki smirked and parted the shorts, slipping them off without sitting up. Fogo reached toward her throat. She shook her head.

“The scarf stays.”

When she reached up to pull his cloth off, he gently moved her hands away.

“This is your moment.”

“My moment?”

“All yours.”

Laki raised up on her elbows. “Then why aren’t you inside me?”

Fogo threw his head back and laughed. “I’m an artist. You must allow me to work at my own pace.”

He leaned over and began to brush the sleeve of his pantsuit over her skin. He started slowly, rubbing the fabric softly over the sides of her torso. Then, as if gauging how much she could take, he added pressure making his caresses rougher. Some areas he rubbed repeatedly while others he barely touched. He punctuated every few touches with a stroking of her inner thighs. He rubbed his cloth down the entire length of each of her legs, then stroked her inner thigh. He brushed his cloth across her chest, across her belly, then stroked her inner thigh.

Each time he returned to her thighs, a swelling crescendoed between her legs and air escaped her in intense gusts. When Fogo’s orchestra of arousal caused Laki to lose all regularity of breathing, he finally disrobed. He shrugged his cloth off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground.

“Turn over.”

“Oh, so you’re still running things?” Laki asked as she turned over.

Fogo began kissing and biting down her spine, veering off course to explore the contours of her back. By the time he reached the fleshy spread beneath her hips, Laki had let go of her performance. She no longer cared who was in control, she simply wanted to feel as much as she could, as deeply as she could. She reached for Fogo and pulled him to her.

“I need it now.”