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Sir?
The thief turned from watching the light-play. A domo hovered at the edge of
the starburst-shaped table. Oh. A chinchin, please, a little heavier on the
Cinzano. The domo hummed a thankyou and swirled away. Neil Leipzig turned
back to the phantasmagoria beyond the pressure window. A bubble of music
struck the window and burst just beyond the thief's nose. He knew the tune.
Neil.
The thief saw her reflection, dimly, in the window. He did not turn around for
a moment, gathering his feelings. Joice, he said, finally. Nice to see you
again.
Then why don't you turn around so you can.
He let the seat turn him toward her.
She was still remarkable. He wanted to see dust marks on her loveliness,
product of treachery and floating ethics, but he knew she had not really been
treacherous, and if there had been an ethical failure, it had been his.
May I sit?
I'm going to be joining a party in a few minutes, but please... He waved her
to the seat beside him. She settled into it, crossing her legs. The chiton
opened and revealed smooth thigh vanishing up into ivory fabric. How have you
been?
I've been excellent, Neil. Breve sends his best.
That was unnecessary.
I'm trying to be reasonable, Neil. It's been a long time and I'm
uncomfortable with it this way between us.
Be comfortable. I've got it all straight.
I'm trying to be friendly.
Just be reasonable, that'll be enough.
The domo came bobbing through the room and hovered beside the table. It set
the chin-chin down.
The thief sipped and nodded acceptance. Lady? the domo hummed.
Nothing for me, thanks.
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The domo shot straight up and went away just below ceiling height
Are you still doing dust? she asked.
He stiffened and his eyes came to her face with anger as he stopped watching
the domo. Your manners haven't improved any with time.
She started to say I'm sorry. But his anger continued to sheet: If we run out
on that topic, we can always discuss Breve's throat!
Oh, God, Neil, that's unfair...unfair and lousy!
I understand from one of the twinkle boys that Breve's using some new steroid
vexing agent and a stim-sensitive synthetic that lets him vibrate it like mad.
Must be terrific for you...when he's not with twinkles.
Joice pressed a fingertip against the room-call plate set into the surface of
the starburst-shaped table. Near the reception area Max heard the tone on his
console, noted it was Neil Leipzig's table, punched up an empty, and made a
mental note to let Lady Effim know the thief was in a room, when she and her
party arrived. At the starburst-shaped table, the number 22 pulsed in the
translucent face of the room-call plate.
All right, Neil. Enough already. Overkill doesn't become you.
She stood up.
And mealy-mouth attempts at bonhomie don't become you.
He stood up.
It's simply I see no reason why we have to be on the outs. There are still
some good memories.
Side by side, they walked across the enormous dining room of the Full Fathom
Five, toward the curving wall of glass-fronted private rooms.
Look, Joice: I don't want to talk about it. You stopped to talk to me,
remember? I didn't force myself on you.
Just now, or three years ago?
He couldn't help laughing. Point for you, he said, opening the door to the
private room. The magnifying glass of the room's front wall curved the diners
beyond into a mere smear of moving color.
From outside, the tableau in the room was cast large for anyone to watch.
I'm sorry I said that about the dust, Joice said, slipping the soft fabric
of the chiton off her shoulders. It floated to the floor like fog.
I'm not sorry about my comments where Breve is concerned, Neil replied.
Naked, he moved his shoulder blades in a loosening movement, realizing the
scene with his parents had made him unbelievably tense. He slid into the
free-fall cumulus fizz and lay on his back.
Gardyloo! she said, and dove into the mist beside him. Her long auburn hair
floated wildly around her head.
What the hell's all this in aid of, Joice? the thief said. She rolled him
under her, sitting astride his thighs, positioning herself above his erect
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penis.
Peaceful coexistence, she said, and settled down slowly till he was deep up
inside her.
Has he med for you?
No.
Does he intend to?
I have no idea.
You've gotten more laissez-faire since we were a pair. I can't recall a week
when you weren't badgering me to file.
I loved you.
And you don't love Breve.
She moved her hips in a circular pattern. He contracted and expanded his penis
in a steady pulse.
She leaned back and rested her hands on his upper thighs, sliding up and down
smoothly.
I didn't say I don't love Breve. He just hasn't filed and it isn't a problem
at the moment.
Why file for don't you him?
Don't be cruel; you know
Breve isn't in the Pool.
So the problem? Twinkles? Don't be ridiculous.
what is
He freed one hand and, pressing her lower lips, very gently sought out and
stroked the mercury heaviness of her clitoris. She shuddered and opened her
eyes, then they slid closed once more.
Then what is?
There's nothing wrong between us. He's doing very well, his work is going
well, and I'm fulfilled.
It's a good merging.
She spasmed, from deep in her stomach muscles, and he felt her contracting
around him. When she climaxed it was with a succession of small ignitions. He
continued touching her, maintaining a rhythm, and she spiraled upward through
a chain of multiple orgasms till she dropped her upper body onto him, reached
under to grasp his buttocks, and thrust herself up and down rapidly. He
thought of metal surfaces.
She forced air through her clenched teeth and groaned from low in her throat,
and he felt her rising for the final ascent. When it came, Neil held his
breath and could feel the sudden cessation of her heartbeat.
They rolled and turned in the free-fall mist, and Joice spasmed for half a
minute.
They lay locked together for a time, and then she raised her head and looked
down at him.
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Nothing happened.
For me. You're fine.
Too much dust, Neil?
Too little interest.
I don't believe that.
Life is filled with little disappointments.
You make me feel sad.
Life is filled with little disappointments.
She pulled off him and reached for a moist and scented serviette in a
dispenser on the wall. She dried herself between her legs and swam out of the
fizz. Neil Leipzig lay on his back, at a forty-five degree angle to the floor,
hanging artfully in mid-air, and watched her. I don't regret losing you,
Joice. I have more to work with, now that your appetites are satisfied at
other groaning boards.
Spare me the metaphors, Neil. Are you aware that in most circles you're
considered ridiculous?
I seldom travel in those circles. It must get you dizzy.
Hurting each other won't make the past more liveable.
I don't live in the past.
That's right. I forgot. You live in tin cans.
He felt his face getting hot. Too close, she'd come too close with that one.
Goodbye, Joice. Don't slam the door.
She draped the chiton over her arm, opened the door and stepped partially into
the dining room proper. Don't get metal splinters in your cock. She smiled a
smile of victory and closed the door behind her. Softly.
He watched her striding across the Full Fathom Five to join a group of
Twinkles, Dutchgirls, a
Duenna...and Breve. As she moved, she was comically distorted by the
magnifying window. It was like watching her stride through rainbows. She sat
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