Piers Anthony: Total Recall

It was definitely going beyond the game stage. “Aw, Lori, don’t be like that!” he protested, wriggling within her scissors, nudging her where it didn’t show. “ You’re the girl of my dreams!”

Lori abruptly stopped struggling. She looked up at him moonily. “You mean it?” Her scissors relaxed.

“ Of course.” And now it was true. Their wrestling had completed what her comforting had started, and now he wanted her very much.

As well she knew. She was, after all, in contact with that region. She entwined him with her long athletic legs, this time not squeezing but embracing, and pulled him in to her. They kissed.

“You are so full of bull…” she breathed.

He laughed. “Well, you know what a bull does with a cow!”

“Cow!” she exclaimed with mock indignation. “You ever see a cow do this?” She sat up, bestriding him, riding his groin, and hauled off her nightgown. She had the world’s finest body, and knew it. “Or this?” She bounced, her breasts following their own courses while her thighs did special things to his midsection. “Or this?” She abruptly dropped her upper torso onto him and kissed him savagely. Her tresses slid down around his face and neck, silken smooth, tickling him delightfully.

“No,” he had to admit. “The cows I know just stand there and wait for it.”

She lifted her head, her eyes glinting with dangerous humor. “And just how many cows do you know?”

“Only one.” He felt her body tense warningly. “And she’s only a dream.”

Lori relaxed. She liked that analogy. He had called the dream-girl a cow, instead of the real one. She resumed her activity. It was certainly true that she didn’t just wait for it; she came more than halfway to get it. It was an attitude he liked very well. He put his hands on her buttocks, and felt them tensing alternately, teasing him, daring him to get more than his hands into action.

He rolled her over. She screamed as if being ravished, pausing only long enough to deep-kiss him as he proceeded to the culmination. She did a belly dance, but her abdomen didn’t move; it was all internal. Her tongue flicked into his mouth, coordinating with the hidden dance. Oh, yes, she was no cow—but he did feel like a bull, at the moment.

Even so, the picture of the woman of his dreams remained in his mind, and he wished she could be the one with him at this moment. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend that it was the Mars woman he was embracing. He wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

It ended in due course, as all things did. Lori got up and headed for the shower; daintiness was always vital to her, and he had mussed her hair and smeared her lips and done a few other things in the course of having a spectacular time. Lori was Woman-Plus! How had an ordinary Joe like him managed to capture such a creature?

Quaid relaxed, then took his turn after Lori stepped from the shower, her body glistening. His own body felt good, as it always did after an outing with her, but his mind remained disturbed. That dream had been too real! He just couldn’t throw it off, however foolish it was.

He emerged, dried, and got dressed in his work clothes, his musing continuing. He was no Hi-Q professor or big-bucks executive, he was just a construction worker. He was very good at that, but it hardly made him a prize catch. Yet Lori had married him, her ardor unabated in all the years they had been together. There was no mystery about her appeal for him; she appealed to any man who ever lived. But what was his appeal for her? Oh, he had muscles, and she did like that, but she surely could have found and landed a man who had muscles and money or power. Why had she settled for half a loaf? And why was he, the luckiest of men, dreaming of a fantasy woman instead? That seemed perverse at best, and crazy at worst.

It was not the first time the question had occured to him. They came from such different worlds. He was a Construction Engineer, Site Preparation Specialist: longhand for the class of low-level laborers who broke up old artifacts to make way for new ones. In fact, he was a jackhammer jock, just like his dad. It was all he had ever wanted to be and he was proud to follow in his father’s footsteps. He was good at it, too, a veritable artist with his machine, working twice as fast as anyone else, but it hardly made him a prize catch for someone like Lori. Oh, he had muscles, and she did like that, but he was no Hi-Q professor or big-bucks executive, he was just a construction worker.

And Lori? Lori was the pampered daughter of an advertising executive. He recalled the day they met, eight years ago. He had been hard at work on the site of an old, glass and steel highrise which was being demolished to make way for a new, plasplex business center. The site was in the financial district, an area Quaid didn’t usually see much of, and he had enjoyed the passing parade of nattily attired men and woman, late model hovercars, and cleaning droids that kept every surface sparkling. It was an interesting change from his own dingy, decaying working-class neighborhood.

Then he had seen Lori. She had been standing across the street, gazing at him. Even at that distance, he had seen the glint of approval in her eyes as they lingered on his sweat-slicked torso. He had become accustomed to getting the once-over from pretty ladies in expensive dresses, but Lori’s look was bolder, and she followed through on it by crossing the street to say hello.

To his unending amazement, they were married three months later. He had insisted that they live on his income for the first few years, but Lori had gradually convinced him to accept her money as his own and they finally left his humble rooms for a spacious, modern conapt in one of the fancier tower blocks. Lori felt right at home, but he was having trouble making the transition. He had taken a lot of kidding about it at work, and he still felt out of place, a working stiff in the midst of society types.

Still, he had no right to complain. The conapt was a marvel. He lay back in bed and gazed at the holoscreen in the ceiling, remembering the erotic holovids he and Lori had made, and how it added that little something extra to have them running while they made love. And he enjoyed the pure, sensual pleasure of giving himself over to the immersion room at the end of a long day, letting its lifters and waterjets turn him and pummel the fatigue from his muscles while the steam rose around him, then relaxing while the airjets blew him dry. The social side of his new life might be giving him trouble, but he found himself getting really used to its physical luxuries.

But above all, he had Lori, her ardor unabated in all the years they had been together. He thought back to the morning’s love-making, and a sudden memory of his dream intruded on his thoughts, shattering his contentment. He shook his head, disturbed.

That dream had been too real! He just couldn’t throw it off, however foolish it was. And it was incredibly foolish. Why was he, the luckiest of men, dreaming of a fantasy woman when he had Lori? That seemed perverse at best, and crazy at worst.

Lori emerged from the bathroom, her body glistening, and again Quaid wondered what this sleek, elegant rich girl saw in him. With a shrug, he jumped out of bed to take his turn in the bathroom. No time for immersion this morning; a quick shower would have to do. He finished, dried, and got dressed in his work clothes.

He entered the kitchen of their conapt. The lights were already on, programmed to suit his work schedule during the week. He dumped fruit in the juicer and let it whir while he filled the blender with nuts, wheat germ, protein packs, leftover veggies, and a half dozen raw eggs. He added the juice, tapped the blender’s controls, and watched it transform the mess into a power shake to end all power shakes. He smiled wryly as he watched. Well, he thought, if Lori loves me for my body, I’ll do my best to keep it in shape. He promised himself that he’d do his best to shake off the effects of that damned dream, too.