Orson Card - THE SHIPS OF EARTH

Hushidh looked at him steadily in the silence. "You're breathing rather heavily," she said.

"Am I?" he asked.

"Is that passion or are you as scared of all this as I am?" she asked.

Yes. More scared. "Passion," he said.

It wasn't very light inside the tent, but it wasn't very dark, either. He could see her make a decision, then reach up under her blouse and do something or other, and when she brought out her hands again, he could see that her breasts now moved freely under the cloth. And because she did that, he was more scared than ever, but he also felt just a touch of desire, because no woman had ever done such a thing in front of him, and certainly not for him, for him to see on purpose. Only he was probably expected to do something now and he had no idea what to do.

"I'm not very experienced at this sort of thing," said Hushidh.

What sort of thing? he wanted to ask, but then decided not to, since he understood exactly what she meant and it wasn't a good moment to joke.

"But I thought we ought to perform a kind of experiment," she said. "Before we decide anything. To see if you could possibly be attracted to me."

"I could," he said.

"And to see if you can give anything to me," she said. "It'll be better if we can both enjoy it, don't you think?"

Her words were so matter-of-fact. He could hear, though, from the trembling in her voice, that it wasn't matter-of-fact to her. And for the first time it occurred to him that she probably didn't think of herself as a beautiful woman. She was never one that the young men in the school had drooled over behind her back; now it occurred to Issib that she might be perfectly aware of that, probably was aware, and that she might be as frightened about whether he would desire her as he was about whether he could please her. It put them on something closer to equal terms. And instead of worrying about whether she'd be disgusted, he could give some thought to what she might enjoy.

She moved closer to him. "I asked my sister Luet," she said. "What men do for women that she thought you might be able to do for me." Her hands now rested on the arms of the chair. And now her right hand dropped down and rested on his leg. His thin, thin leg; he wondered how it felt to her, this thigh that barely had muscle on it. Then she pressed closer to him and he realized that his hand was now touched by the cloth of her blouse. "She said that you could do buttons."

"Yes," he said. It was hard, but he had learned to button and unbutton clothing that fastened that way.

"And I assumed that meant you could also undo them."

Only then did he realize that he was being invited.

"An experiment," he said.

"A midterm exam," she said, "in unbuttoning and opening, with an extra credit question later."

He lifted his hand—it was such hard work—lifted it and took hold of her blouse's top button. It was a bad angle—backhanded.

"Not a good angle, is it," she said. Then she moved her right hand to his other thigh, and higher, and then leaned in front of him. Now he could use both hands, and unbuttoning her blouse was almost easy, even though he had never had to unbutton someone else's clothing before. It occurred to him that this would be a useful skill with children who hadn't learned to dress themselves yet.

"Perhaps you can improve your time on the next one," she said.

He did. And now as he worked the skin of his hands brushed against her breasts. He had dreamed, day and night, of touching a woman's breasts, but had always believed that it would never be more than a dream. And now, as he unbuttoned each button, she lifted herself higher, so the next lower button would be in reach, and this moved her breasts closer to his face, until finally, by turning his head just a little, he would be able to kiss her skin.

His fingers unbuttoned the last button, and now the two sides of her blouse swung free, too. I can't I can't, he said, and then he did anyway, turned his head and kissed her. The skin was a little sweaty, but also soft and smooth, not like skin that had been weathered—not like his own hands, smooth as they were, or even his mother's smooth cheek, which he had often kissed; this was such skin as had never touched his lips before, and he kissed her again.

"You only got an average mark for unbuttoning and opening," she said, "but your extra credit work seems promising. You don't always have to be that gentle."

"I'm actually being as rough and brutal and manly as I can," he said.

"Then it's fine," she said. "You can't do it wrong, you know. As long as I know you're doing it because you want to."

"I do," he said. And then, because he realized that she needed to hear it, he said, "I want to very much. You're so ... perfect."

She seemed to wince a little.

"Like what I imagined," he said. "Like a dream."

Then her hand moved, and tested him as well, to see how he was responding, and though his first instinct was to hide, to shy away, for once he was glad that his body wouldn't allow him to move away that quickly, because she needed also to know that he had been aroused.

"I think the experiment was a success, don't you?" asked Hushidh.

"Yes," said Issib. "Does that mean you want me to stop now?"

"No," she said. "But someone might come into this tent at any moment." She drew away and rebuttoned her blouse. She was breathing rather heavily, though. He could hear her despite his own heavy breathing. "That was a lot of exercise, for me," he said.

"I hope to wear you out."

"Can't unless you marry me," he said.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Will you?"

"Is tomorrow soon enough?"

"No," he said. "I don't think so."

"Then maybe I should go and get your parents." Her blouse was buttoned by now, and she got up and left the tent. Only then did he realize that whatever the underwear was that had bound her breasts before, it was lying in the middle of the carpet, a little white pile. He dropped his right hand to the controls of his chair and made the chair's long arm go out and pick it up, then bring it close to him. He could see how the undergarment was made, and thought it was rather ingenious, but at the same time resented the way the elasticized fabric must hold a woman's breasts close to her body all the time. Maybe the women wore such things only for riding camels. It would be sad if they were confined like that all the time. Especially for him, because he liked very much the way Hushidh's body moved under her blouse when this had been removed.

He told his chair to stow it in the small case under the chair; it complied. Only just in time—Hushidh came back in at once with Father and Mother. "I can't very well complain that it's too sudden," said Father. "We've been expecting this and hoping it would come sooner rather than later."

"Do you want us to call everyone together for the ceremony?" asked Mother.

And have them spend a half hour being alternately bored by the ceremony and curious about how Hushidh and Issib would handle sex? "No thanks," he said. "All the important people are here."

"Well, too bad," said Hushidh. "I asked Luet and Nafai to come in, too, as soon as they've notified Zdorab and Shedemei about the new sleeping arrangements."

Issib hadn't thought of that—Hushidh had been sharing a tent with Shedemei, just as Issib had with Zdorab. The two of them would be forced together before they were ready, and… "Don't worry," said Father. "Zdorab will sleep here with the Index, and Shedemei will stay where she is. Hushidh will move in with you, because your tent is already… equipped."

Equipped with his private latrine arrangements, the pans for his sponge baths, his bed with the mattress of air bubbles so he didn't get bedsores. And in the morning, he'd need to void his bladder and his bowels, and he'd say, Shuya, darling, would you mind bringing me my jar and my pan? And then wipe up after me, there's a dear…