Sappho Chapter 3 free porn video

Chapter 3 With the plans for the hyperdrive infrastructure already given to Paglia, there was plenty of free time, the time I had wanted to do what I had trained to do - explore and analyze. In its own way, Sappho was a fascinating place. Except for a few scattered islands, the results of an ancient volcanic chain, there was only one continent on the entire planet. About the size of Australia, it was divided naturally by the mighty Joan of Arc mountains running north-south and an inland sea effectively cutting off about a third of the continent in the south- west corner. This was Paglia, with its capital, Paglia City, on the coast, close to the opening to the inland Sea of Aphrodite. To the north was Woolf and to the east, over the mountains, lay Stein. All was fairly peaceful on the island continent, but it was not always so. The colony ship, "The Outreach," had originally landed by the coast in Stein. They had brought Earth's technical skills and the tools necessary to begin a civilization. The climate was close to ideal; minerals and ores were in the mountains; the plains, filled with alien grasses, were fertile ground and no match for hardy Earth plant life. Forests, bushes, and crops quickly filled the area from the ocean to foothills. As was all too typical with colonies when idealists and theoreticians were in charge, progress was slow and turbulent. Social factions emerged and separated, eventually to settle Paglia and Woolf. Social forms of government took precedence over construction and infrastructure for hundreds of years. Even though the technical knowledge of the 23rd century Earth existed, progress remained stymied with border conflicts and bitter theological divides between the Priestesses of Stein, the Queen of Woolf, and the socialist tyranny of Paglia. It wasn't until Queen Emma ruthlessly suppressed all opposition within Woolf, and forced factories and technical universities to be constructed, did the real effort to modernize begin. Joanne and I stood by the rail of the freighter, "Allred" cruising up the western coast to begin the survey of Woolf. The small waves meeting the prow occasionally kicked up a small spray that dispersed in the air to arrive as salty taste and a hint of cooling wetness. It was hot in the waning months of summer; I wore just a pair of shorts and a tank top, Joanne, the same. I watched the silver and blue icythorposes play in the water beside us, pacing our voyage, their huge black eyes inscrutable as they regarded us. I wouldn't have wanted to be in the water with them. They looked like a cross between a porpoise and a barracuda, and had been known to attack swimmers. I laughed when one jumped over another and jumped back. It looked like a challenge or some sort of fish insult. It also might have been a mating ritual. Regardless, the jumped fish cut away to follow its tormenter or lover. "It's good to hear you laugh, Debbie." I tossed my hair back in the breeze and smiled at her. "I am better, Joanne. It's not healthy to hold on to what's impossible. I've decided that it's time to move on." "Just like that?" I shrugged. "Unless I become a man again, it's over, and I don't see that in my future. I wish her all the happiness there is and I know she does for me." She looked at me curiously. "You don't want to talk about it?" I thought about it. What could I have told her? That I wasn't man enough for Wendy anymore, that since I nothing to penetrate her the way she needed, she had to dump me? Or, even worse, that I still wished that I could, that I still missed my little David? I couldn't have told her those things; she could never completely understand it and I didn't want to repulse her over something that didn't matter anymore. It was over and, as painful as it was, I was mostly reconciled. "Mm, no, I don't need to talk about it." She seemed a little hurt by my words, and I covered her hand on the rail to soften them. I'd never met anyone like her, or maybe I'd never met anyone who treated me the way she did. She fit into the sympathetic girl friend role well, assuming that as a woman I'd like to share and emote. I'd surprised myself by warming to it so easily. I liked her very much. She had been a friend and all I had done so far was accept what she had to offer. Maybe it was time I did my part. If that took being a girl friend in return, then so be it. Unless I wanted to carry around a chip on my shoulder, I might as well at least try to get used to it. I gave her my best smile. "You've already helped me a lot. If I need to talk more, I'll be looking for you, really." I looked to my watch and held out my hand to her. "It's lunchtime. Would you join me for lunch today, Joanne?" She grinned. "As your monitor, I insist!" she took my hand and we made our way forward to the ladder nearest the dining hall. I watched Joanne descend the ladder from below. Her pert rear end made me sigh a little, knowing that there was no way to utilize it the way I would have liked. We were almost the same height, her blond hair a match for my own black. She stumbled on the last step and I leaped forward to catch her around the waist from behind. For a moment, we were pressed closely together. She felt good, soft and feminine, and her hair against my face smelled wonderful. I couldn't go any further than that for several reasons: I wasn't ready for a new relationship that close to Wendy, Joanne was my friend and monitor - I wasn't too sure that she wanted to go any farther than that, and I was uneasy about a lesbian relationship. That meant being thought of as a woman and deep down I was still a man. So, I set her on her feet as soon as I reasonably could and pretended as if the contact hadn't happened. Still, my hands and those places on my body where we'd met remembered the feel of her all the way to the dining hall. We were one of the fewer than four-dozen passengers on the freighter. I had chosen this to get a feel for real life, as well as get to our destination, the largest city in Woolf, the port city of Martina. The dining hall was crowded, divided into two sections of crew and passengers. The crew, about fifty, came and went in small shifts. Powerfully built women in distinctive short hair, often with impressive tattoos of ships or naked girlfriends in suggestive poses peering under rolled-up sleeves of worn thin blue coveralls, straggled in tiredly, sweating from the heat of the turbo-diesels in the engine room. They appropriated the whole backside of the mess, where they laughed, swore and cussed like sailors. Others were from above deck: the officers in white shorts and dark blue-trimmed blue blouses with the stiff copper epaulets of the merchant marine, who had their own separate table, and the women of the maintenance teams, who repaired electronics, or anything mechanical outside of the engine room and served under the officers. The crew's ages ranged from the late twenties to mid fifties and few were beauties, especially from the engine room, but they had the walk and swagger of competency and experience. To many of them, we passengers were "pussies," or simply "dead weight." They weren't rude about it; it was more of a psychological way to separate the transient passengers from the real inhabitants of the Allred, and in truth, the separation wasn't absolute. The woman at my right elbow at the passengers' table, Indira, had been seen with a tall redhead from the engine room. I knew Indira slightly; an outgoing woman, nearly my height, with lustrous black hair and a deep brown tan over a natural olive, the product of the sun. Her accent and bright colors made her a woman from Woolf. I'd noticed a few appraising glances from the crew at Joanne and even a few at me. Fortunately, most already had the two of us paired-off, but not all. A tall woman from the officer's table watched us closely and caught my attention, but I wouldn't meet her eye. Frankly, she disturbed me; she was too damn confident. I felt her hot black roving eyes over my ass and breasts. I imagined her imagining me naked beneath her, teasing my nipples and nuzzling my neck and inner thighs until I parted my legs, moaning for a more intense exploration with tongue and phallic devices - all the while thinking I was a woman. The very thought! The damndest part was that she was fine-looking female, about thirty. Her jet-black hair and epicanthic folds bespoke distant Asian origins, and long lean tan legs in white shorts had always been a turn-on for me as a man. To be thought of as a fem by another woman was unnerving, besides being incorrect; well, mostly incorrect. To be honest, after several months of trying hard to act like a fem, I had acquired many of the traits. When I forgot myself or was distracted, I tended to revert. Smaller, more delicate gestures, mild language, excessive attention to my long hair, the length of which I had perversely come to like, and a softer laugh was my fem norm. Joanne had teased me about my split personality, once even telling me that she preferred my fem side during an argument. I'd nearly cut my hair right then until she'd pleaded for me to stop. Joanne had noticed the ocular interplay. "Her name is Bethany and she's the 2nd Mate." I didn't pretend not to understand whom Joanne was talking about. My ears burning, I returned my attention to the baked flounder. "I'm not interested." She smiled. "She is very attractive. Many girls dream of marrying an officer." "Not this one, Joanne!" She frowned and leaned across the narrow table, bending close to my ear. "What's the matter? She is a very pretty woman who likes you. You don't have to like her back, but you act as if you've been insulted!" I held my head in my hands, hideously embarrassed. Indira stared at me as well as one or two others who had heard my outburst. I stood up and left the table, moving to the bulkhead. Joanne followed me a moment later. "What's wrong, Debbie?" she asked in a low voice, studying me with those deep blue eyes. I sighed shakily. "I'm not ready for this, Joanne." She took my hand and her concern grew. "Is it Wendy? Are you still worried about her?" I shook my head. "No. It's..." I sighed again. "Are you attracted to her, Debbie?" I wanted to be honest with her. "Yes, she's beautiful," I admitted. That seemed to bother her a little and she bit her lip. "You're afraid that she's a dom and she'll expect you to be a fem? I thought you didn't mind being a fem." I looked at her. "I suppose I don't, really. But I don't know her and she'll think I'm a woman." She drew back suddenly and blinked. "So that's why. You think you're too good to be a woman. Women must acknowledge your male superiority!" I shook my head. "It's not like that. Wendy knew I wasn't a woman; that's why we could love each other." I frowned. That wasn't exactly the best way to explain it. "Joanne..." She held up a hand in a shot, freezing me from coming any closer. "Wendy may have worshiped you for all I care. When you lost your parts, she dropped you fast enough! Doesn't that tell you something about your sex now, Debbie? I accepted you as a woman, but no! You still think that you are some superior being!" I was pissed at her comment about Wendy worshiping me, but that wasn't the point. "That's not the way it is. You have it wrong." She waited for me to continue, but how could I explain that I was a man in a woman's body and that it was important that a woman knew that I was a man in order for me to make love to her as a lesbian? Hell, that convoluted thought didn't make sense to me. It wasn't logical; it was a feeling, a sense of identity as a man that I needed to hold onto, but how could I ever explain that to a woman on a world where everyone was a woman? She looked at me sadly, as if I were a huge disappointment. Through my frustration and anger, I asked, "If she's so damned pretty, why don't you talk to her? Who knows? You might get lucky." Her eyes grew very wide in terrible hurt and I knew that I'd stepped way over the line. "Joanne, I'm sorry," I pleaded. "I didn't mean it." "That's all right," she replied, so cold it stung like frostbite. "Why not? There's nothing for me here." She moved around me, brushing me aside as if I didn't exist, and strolled over to the officer's table. I watched Bethany's eyes turn from me to follow her approach. The 2nd Mate's face turned into a big warm smile when Joanne arrived. I couldn't watch any more and walked away. By the time I reached the ladder to the upper deck, I was crying hard and my heart ached like I had just lost the most important thing in my life - and I wasn't sure why. She didn't come back to our quarters all night. I waited for hours, going down a list of apologies, practicing them until it was obvious that she wasn't going to return. I felt guilty as hell; I couldn't blame her for reacting the way she had to what I'd said. I went to breakfast, hoping to see her, but she wasn't there and neither was Bethany. I didn't see them at lunch either. I was poor company at the table and had little appetite. When I left, few missed me. I went on deck and took my place at the rail to watch the coast roll by. The sun, wind and spray were good for forgetting and thinking. I missed her. I put myself in her place and sighed hard. I owed her a huge apology. Unknown to me, she had harbored feelings for me and it was a bad time to realize that I had some for her. I wasn't sure if I loved her, but it was more than like. There was potential for us to go further than just friends, or had been before I had blundered so badly. One thing was for sure, I had lost my best friend and I wanted her back. I left the rail and began my search. She wasn't on the upper deck, or at least anywhere I could find her. Passengers were mainly restricted to the forward section and certain places below: the library and data center, communications and gaming, the fitness center, and a few others. Reluctantly, I concluded that she wasn't in the passenger- authorized sections. I walked aft, passing several women lying in the sun by the rail on foldable recliners. All wore sunglasses and were slick with oil, sipping cool drinks; two or three lay naked to avoid those unsightly tan lines. Indira was one of the latter, and I waved to her idly as I passed by. She smiled beneath reflecting lenses and lifted her hand lazily. "Debbie, join us!" I grinned, but didn't feel it. "Perhaps in a while, Indira, I have to do something." I took a couple more steps towards the administration center, part of crew territory. "Debbie! Please come here!" It was Indira again. I sighed and walked to her couch. She was a pretty woman, already a uniform brown, and her areolas were wide and dark. It was still a jolt to see nakedness displayed so casually. Her legs were spread slightly to catch the sun, exposing her pudenda to the world, glistening with sweat, oil or, who knew, maybe arousal. All body hair below the waist had been removed, as was the custom on Sappho except among the more religious in Stein. "Could you please put some oil on my back, Debbie?" She turned over slowly and lay face down, snuggling comfortably into a thick towel. I shrugged. "Sure." I found the bottle by her head in the sun and squeezed some in the crevasse of her spine. She squealed at the hot oil and laughed. Bending over, I began to rub it in, starting at her shoulders and arms and working my way down. I hesitated over her posterior. "Are you sure your large powerful girlfriend from the engine room won't beat the hell out of me if I rub in a little oil down there?" She turned her head to face me. "She'll be madder at me if I'm sunburned and can't lie on my back." She smiled. "Debbie, do you mind if we talk?" I was always amazed at the willingness of women on Sappho to share confidences with each other. I didn't know Indira very well. Joanne and I had spoken to her a few times at meals in the dining hall and a couple of times in the game room, just the normal "where are you from" and "do you like the cruise" things. In one sense Sappho was a planet full of annoying women who wanted to know your business; in another, it was a psychological resource to be used at need, and was sometimes useful. "No, I suppose not." "Give her some time, Debbie. She's hurt badly." "You saw us at the bulkhead yesterday?" "Yes. You said something that stung. She ran to that pretty Lieutenant to hurt you. You ran away and cried. That's all I know. Do you want to talk about it?" I just couldn't rub oil into her butt and talk about Joanne and me, so I squatted back on my heels. "I was a fool. I said a couple of things I regret very much. One concerned an insane issue I have and the other was something said in anger. I have to apologize to her." "Did you know she's very attracted to you?" My throat tightened so I couldn't speak and I leaked tears on the deck. I cursed the hormones that brought my emotions so close to the surface. "I didn't know then. I think I know now." She grinned. "You are an idiot." I laughed harshly. "No argument there. I'm an idiot. I didn't see it coming and I deserve what I'm getting. I just want to make it right again." She rolled onto her elbow and perused me behind impenetrable shades. "You're a nice girl, Debbie. I hope it's not too late. She moved into Bethany's quarters last night. Captain's orders are if you try to see her, you will be stopped. I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't speak to you until we dock in Martina." My mouth dropped. "What?" "The ship is awash with rumors and useful information. My girlfriend is a part of the crew. You can believe this one." I shook my head, stunned that Joanne would go this far. "I can't wait four days! I have to tell her I'm sorry as soon as possible." "If you give me a note, I can give it to my girlfriend. She can slide it under the door." I hung my head in relief. "Thank you, Indira. I owe you a big one." "Debbie, are you a mean drunk or do you cry a lot when you drink?" I shook my head, puzzled. "No, when I have a lot to drink I get fairly quiet, stupid, and stare into space, usually. Why?" "Good." She stood and picked up her towel. "I can do this anytime. I'll order a couple of bottles of wine and we can lay out this afternoon after lunch. In the meantime, you record your apology." I felt like hugging her, but she was greasy and naked, and her girlfriend was a lot bigger than me. "I'll be here after lunch, Indira. Thanks for listening." Back in my quarters, I found a note on ships stationary. If I had needed confirmation that Joanne wanted to be left alone, it was there. Passenger Deborah Larranti, A fellow passenger, Joanne Minkster, has requested that you cease all contact with her for the duration of this voyage. On my authority, her request has been granted. Your cooperation in this matter is required. Note that this action is the result of Ms. Minkster's personal request and is in no way a reflection of either your or Ms. Minkster's behavior or character. Please enjoy the rest of your cruise aboard the Allred, Captain Tyra Slothrop, Commanding officer, Allred, Woolfline Inc. I tossed the damn thing aside and thought. Joanne would want a real apology, not filler, and she was smart enough to know the difference. So, what was the real problem? I thought of myself as a man in a woman's body. I didn't like to think of myself as a lesbian. I tried to dress it up in the fantasy that it was still I, David Bates, a man, who looked out of the same brown eyes at this world of women, that somehow I was special. It was not right for me to have sex as a female, but as a male, in a man/woman way, it was acceptable. It was an easy psychological game that had outlived its usefulness. I had to face it; for all practical purposes, I was physically a woman. There is an ancient saying: "A difference that makes no difference is no difference." It was time to accept who I must be on this world. Asking for Joanne's forgiveness wasn't enough. For any true forgiveness to be given, restitution must be made. There was nothing I could give her except proof that I had accepted who I was, and only time would tell her that. I brightened suddenly as an idea forced its way into my brain. But I could make a hell of a start! I leaped to my feet and left the cabin, a few minutes later returning with a few items, among them small jar of depilatory cream from the ship's store and a plate from the mess. I went to my purse and pulled out the recorder, setting it up on the nightstand. I searched the net on the cabin computer, printed out a couple of pictures and taped them up behind me. I grinned as I took off my clothes. This was one of those things I had resisted since I'd been snipped. It was time to do the deed. I rubbed the cream on my pubic hair and a few minutes later I washed it off. It looked weird, but everything in life is a tradeoff. I felt like a 130lb. baby, but I was probably a little faster in the water and it was an obvious break with the past, as well as being the style. I lit a couple of incense sticks and placed them in an empty glass, figuring that would add a little solemnity to the atmosphere. Then I walked to the recorder and turned it on. I was ready. I sat naked, cross-legged on the cabin rug floor, prepared to eat a lot of crow. "Joanne, I'm sorry. It was completely my fault. I could not admit to myself who I was. I am here to change that." I took the notice from the captain and ripped it into two equal halves. I crumpled each and placed them in the plate. I waved to the print on my left, the ancient, gravid clay representation of Gaea, the Earth Mother, and to the print on my right, the beautiful, powerful statue in the Paglia central square, the Goddess of Sappho. "To Gaea and the Goddess, I swear that I am now a woman. Accept these paper balls as a symbolic offering of my masculinity." I lit the two crumpled-up pieces of paper on the plate. I didn't bat an eye or smile as I watched them burn. As far as I was concerned, it was the truth and my real balls might as well have been going up in flames. They had been a part of me, but it was over; it was part of the past. I shed a tear when the fire went out, but felt a kind of relief. It was over. The decision was made and I would live with it. I faced the recorder and spread my hands in my lap, palms up. I waited until I found the right mood-spirit, and then intoned, "To Gaea and The Goddess, I am no longer David Bates. I am no longer a man. My name is Deborah Larranti and I am a woman." I took a deep breath. With those words, also spoken honestly, a sense of belonging swept through me. I had changed. I was a woman. I had breasts, a slit that felt damned good when filled properly, long hair, and emotions just under the surface, just like most of the other 10 million women. I was normal. I was happy. I was a part of this world now, free, and my likely dead mother and father had just acquired the daughter they had always wanted. "Joanne," I said directly to her through the recording, "this is more than symbolic. I'll prove it to you if you give me the chance." I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined Joanne with me in the room. I let what I felt for her fill my heart. Aside from Barbara and Wendy, she was my first real friend. She had meant more than I had guessed and, as with so many people, only fully appreciated when they were gone. I wanted her back. I wanted her in my arms. I wanted to be in hers. In a way, I had been falling in love with her for months; it had just crept up on me sneaky-fast and had been held back by a need to hold onto my old life. With that gone, I opened up like a dam breaking. I cried without shame as I told her of my newfound love. I wept as I described my stupidity. I told her that I wanted to find out what love was with her, and I took a long time doing it. Wrung-out but satisfied that I had given it my all, I stopped the recording and saved it to my portable computer. I cleaned it up a little, and then I copied it to the cabin computer into a temporary passenger directory, opening permission for the file. I wrote down the address of the file on a piece of paper, folded it, wrote Joanne's name on the outside and went to lunch. I passed the paper to Indira who passed it to her girlfriend at the engine room gang table. The big redhead in blue coveralls winked at me and nodded. Lunch tasted fantastic. I laid out naked with Indira and a couple of other women that afternoon, got pleasantly drunk and had a fine time. Despite the sun block in the oil, I managed to toast those tender white areas that had never seen the sun, but it was worth it. I waited for Joanne to read the note and look at the file, sure that I would see her in a few hours, maybe the next day, tops. But I was very wrong. The next day, I had the same message sent again, hoping that the first had been lost or thrown away in haste. I set up a messenger to notify me when the file had been read and it triggered late in the afternoon. I waited, but nothing happened. The next morning, the file had been deleted and most of my hope drained away. I alternated between wanting to kick myself for being a fool and wanting to kick her in the ass for refusing to listen to me. Joanne, give me a chance! It was useless; I had run out of options. She would see me when she wanted and not before. I shed some tears, and didn't leave my cabin for the rest of the day. I was almost resigned to losing her by the end of the third day. For whatever reason, she hadn't accepted my apology. She was not a cruel person. With my callousness, it might have seemed to her that the stories about men had been at least partly true - maybe she had never really trusted me to begin with. Maybe she didn't believe my recording. For whatever reason, she had made her choice and it didn't include forgiving me. The fourth day began with a goodbye breakfast. Passengers gave each other hugs and mostly made insincere promises to keep in touch. Most avoided my sad countenance, fearing, perhaps, a depressing tale or a request for money. But Indira knew my melancholy for what it was. She gave me a concerned look. "Debbie, you know I don't live far from Martina. Give me a call if you need a friend, or if it doesn't work out for you with Joanne." "What about your redhead in the engine room? My butt just did get over that sunburn." "You don't have to worry about that. Rhonda knew it would end in Martina." I knew it too. I really did look at Indira then. I liked her. We'd had some laughs and she was a good listener. She was protective, judgmental, and a little bossy in a nice way - fairly dom. A pretty woman, she was a hair shorter than me, and a couple of years older. It was an odd moment. I briefly wondered how it might be to make love to her, and it didn't scare or repel me - a far cry from a few days before. Slow, sad music began to play, Sappho's version of "Auld Lang Syne." It was a polite way to tell the passengers to clear the dining hall and a last chance for the passengers to say goodbye in a party atmosphere. Indira pulled me close and kissed me, a fairly normal thing to do at casual events on Sappho, depending on the circumstances, but not a passionate kiss on the mouth using her tongue. Yet, I found that I enjoyed it and let her. I wouldn't have let it go beyond that, but it was fun. A hint of sly joined her pleased expression and I had a feeling she'd enjoyed it at least as much as I had - maybe because she'd stolen it, the wench. I smiled at the thought that a kiss had been "stolen" from me. 'Hmm, maybe there is something to this lesbian thing.' I wondered. "You're a fem, aren't you, Debbie?" "Most of the time," I admitted. "I know that for the moment your heart belongs to Joanne, but if it doesn't work out, give me a call. I'm not interested in anything serious right now, but I'd like to see you again." "I will, Indira - if it doesn't work out." We separated after that and I returned to my cabin to get everything ready. I packed my things as well as Joanne's since she had never returned to pick up her clothes. I lugged them all to the deck and waited with the others while Martina came into view, wondering when Joanne would appear. I still had hopes that she was punishing me, wanting me to suffer and worry until the final moment. Martina was in a cooler clime than Paglia City, had a different history and a much different look. Instead of modern concrete and steel pastel buildings on a flat dry plain, Martina was surrounded by green hills topped with impressive stone castles, and its bustling, crowded communities in the valley were hundreds of years old. The ancient coastal forests had been long ago stripped for their timber, and it had the look of a spread out medieval city with tall, up to ten-story high, modern buildings mixed with history and a busy wharf. The smell of fish, one of the major industries here, struck me first. And then there were the dactyls, a white native bird so named for their long beaks and tiny hooks on the end of their wings. They circled above the incoming fishing ships, looking to steal a fish or two from a ship or loading dock. Originally settled on the mouth of the Billie Jean River, Martina had been dredged for centuries, gradually widened and deepened until the largest craft with the greatest drafts could navigate the channel. It had become Woolf's capitol hundreds of years before when Queen Emma had ruled there with an iron fist, terrorizing many thousands, but had advanced knowledge and consolidated authority in Woolf. From this place had spread the first beginnings of modern civilization on Sappho. Woolf had remained a monarchy. Five castles overlooked the valley, each tremendously wealthy from land, originally productive from agricultural, then later as landlords for much of the valley, deriving a small fee for the yearly rental of each plot or house. Queen Denise ruled now from a complex near the center of Martina, a fairly decent Queen who ruled her country well, but was known to have a mean streak when crossed. The ship pulled into the dock, where the ship's lines were prepared and tossed landward to be attached to huge shore-based cleats. A few families and wives of the passengers and crew lined the side in dresses and blouses of powerful reds, bright yellows and sky blue. I strained to see my contact among the waves of color, an older woman in white hair and the gold scarf of a senior scholar. I found her behind the row of waving arms and loose blouses, flapping wildly in the late morning breeze. I waved to get her attention, but so were dozens of others. I finally just pointed to her and waited. She lifted her arm and pointed back. I nodded and relaxed. There was nothing to be done until the passenger ramp was dropped. I waited as it rolled out and down. When it touched the dock, a sailor in orange walked quickly down and secured it with two lines. I turned my attention back to the ship and looked around anxiously from my place at the rail. I was worried now; I had expected to see her back by that time. I spotted her just over the line into the officer territory, stepping out onto the walkway from an adjacent room. Her blonde hair blowing in the wind was a beautiful sight. I waved to her frantically, hoping that she would at least wave back after the past four days of torture. I didn't care if she was mad with me or not. I just wanted to see her again. If I could only talk to her I knew that somehow, in time, I would make it right again. Bethany stepped out behind her onto the walkway with two bags and gave her a kiss that made the one I had with Indira a pathetic imitation. I swallowed hard; that was a blow I hadn't prepared myself for. I told myself that I should have expected it - Bethany was gorgeous and Joanne did stay in her room for four days. It was only logical that she would be grateful and even bond with her a little after what must have looked like a horrible rejection to her. But even that optimistic assessment was dashed when Bethany lowered her hands to cover Joanne's bottom and massage it familiarly. Joanne leaned closer and accepted it, even moving her hands down Bethany's back to her own lovely tail section. My heart sank. This was not the parting of friends. They were lovers, and I would have given much to have been the cause of the look of love she wore so blatantly. I didn't cry, but something in me died. They climbed down to the deck and walked towards the moved to the deck together, Bethany's arm around her waist. Bethany saw me first and stopped to whisper something in Joanne's ear. She nodded and looked up. When she saw me, she tossed me a mild wave. I sighed deeply. This was her choice, I reminded myself. I had my chance and blew it. Bethany greeted me first, shielding Joanne from me as if I were contagious. She held her hand out in a gesture normally considered polite. "Hello, Debbie, I'm Bethany Orlando." I took it automatically. Her hand was strong and she had a nice smile. Even her voice was a warm contralto. I hated her. "Hi." I glanced at Joanne. She looked at me as if I might hit Bethany, or afraid I might cause a scene - or some other male-like behavior. 'Are we back to that again?' I wondered sadly. "Joanne said that you wouldn't mind if I rode with you to the Queen's Apartments. It's on your way." I couldn't find a legitimate reason to say no. "Sure, why not?" "Thank you for packing for me, Debbie," were her first words to me. "No problem, Joanne." I forced a smile. "Well, shall we go? Our contact from the University is waiting." Doctor Richards smiled a welcome when she spotted Joanne and me. She knew us from our faces from the net, of course. It slipped a little when she saw who was with us. The trip, although not strictly a secret, was confidential, mainly to protect me from fanatics who might do me harm. She would be unsure how much she could say in Bethany's presence. Joanne stepped forward and shook her hand. "Doctor Richards, this is Bethany Orlando from the ship. She knows about Debbie." I lifted an eyebrow at this gross breach of trust. What did you tell her, Joanne? I gave her a sharp look, but she avoided my eyes. Our university contact shrugged as if it had little importance. "Very well. I'm very pleased to meet you, Ms. Larranti. I have many questions to ask, and I wish we had more time." I liked her instantly. A former sailor, she had the lines around her eyes of someone who squinted long hours into sun and rain. Despite her age, she had retained the upright posture and physical confidence of the very active. Her openness was a refreshing breeze after so many instant rejections. Officially, I was a visiting scholar. It was at her request that I was there at all. Few would have had the guts to ask questions knowing the answers would contradict the official planetary record. I took her calloused hand and shook firmly. "I'm very happy to be in Martina, Doctor. Please call me Debbie." She nodded. "Debbie, then. I'm Reni. Shall we go before a dactyl drops a prize on our heads?" I had to grin. "Please. Do you mind if Bethany goes with us? She needs a ride to Queen's Apartments." "Sure. It's quite a hike with two bags." I expected a taxi, but Reni had her own car, an older model but well maintained. I sat in front while Reni pointed out historic points of interest: a battleground, the old market, and the castle where Queen Emma had her coronation. Joanne and Bethany sat in back holding hands and staring at each other in a disgusting display of mental fondling. Bethany finally relinquished her grip on my monitor and left. Joanne turned and watched her until she was out of sight. Reni had seen the whole thing in the rearview mirror and winked at me. "True love is great to see. Soon they'll both be havin' children." I sighed softly. "Maybe so." As we pulled out of the town, I saw my destination. The University lay between two prominent hills. The four-story dark gray stone structure was really an open rectangle concealing a courtyard. Two towers at the main corners overlooked the main road and old style triangular green/red pennants hung from horizontal poles mounted over the main gate. Despite its ancient appearance, it was well preserved and had a reputation for being one of the finest research facilities on the planet. "Here are the keys. You'll be stayin' in the visitor's quarters, Debbie. With two rooms, you should have enough space for both of you." I shook her hand as I left the car. "Thank you for inviting me Reni. I'll mostly be in the library or taking trips around the area, but I'll be at your disposal as much as I can." She showed me an eye. "Fair warning. I'll be takin' you up on that." I shrugged. "Not a big deal. I think my life here will be mostly working anyway. I just wish they'd let me take some copies from my ship." She shook her head in amazement. "You know, it's only when you talk like that the illusion drops. You could be a graduate student in one of my classes." I smiled. "I almost wish I were. You sound like you give an interesting class. I'll be in the library after I get settled. Maybe in a couple of hours." "That soon? All work and no play makes Jill a pain in the ass." I laughed. "I want to get started." I slapped the door. "See you later Reni. Bye." After she drove away, I handed a key to Joanne. "Let's find out what our rooms look like." The quarters were about what I expected in academia. Two clean separate medium-sized rooms with net connections and terminals, not too different than a live-in hotel with small kitchen and living room. I waited until we had unpacked before I spoke. She seemed even more uncomfortable than I. "Joanne..." "I don't think there's much to say, Debbie," she said curtly. "In a way, you did me a favor. I would never have met Bethany otherwise." I sighed. "Joanne, I am so sorry. If I could take back what I said I would. I was completely wrong and out of line. I know you don't believe me, but I've changed." She folded her arms and sneered. "I'd say that it was a little late for that!" "Yes," I replied sadly, looking into the deep blue eyes that had drawn me to her from the beginning. They were cold now; the woman I'd known was gone. "I know. You've made your decision and you have a new girlfriend. I still want to make things right; I don't want to be your enemy, Joanne." I couldn't help it; thinking about Joanne, this beautiful woman I wanted so much loving another woman, the damn hormones kicked in and freed a deluge. Her sneer didn't fade with my tears. "You look like a woman; most of the time you act like one; and you can cry like one, but you will always be a man thinking that he is superior. You'll never change." That did it! The tears shut off like a spigot had turned. I stood up and glared at her. "How nice, Joanne," I said bitterly. "How neatly you categorize me. Now, no matter what I say, no matter what I do, it doesn't matter because you 'know' my real thoughts will be those of a filthy man." Joanne looked up, startled. "Debbie, you said..." I threw up my hands. "I know what I said. I understand; I was a jerk with an identity crisis. I'm sorry, Joanne!" She had already rejected my best efforts. What was the point? I hated this! "If you can't stand me, then I can't ask you to be my monitor. I'll call Jezzi and she can send someone else." She turned away guiltily. "That wouldn't work. I already called her and she insists that I stay with you." She turned red as my face turned to stone. Talking to my greatest enemy behind my back, trying to sneak out of town without even speaking to me... My throat filled with a lump and I was forced to breathe softly until it cleared. "I see. Okay, this is what we'll do then. I'll stay out of your way as much as I can. You monitor me as much as you feel you need to." "Debbie, I..." She shook her head in confusion. "I can live with that, of course. What about Bethany?" "Do what you want with her. I blew any chance I had with you; I know that. All I ask is that you don't bring her around too much and rub it in my face!" I watched her pull her fingers through her long blonde hair, a nervous gesture I had come to know well. "I don't understand this! There's something wrong here." I looked at her very sadly. "You want Bethany, didn't you?" She nodded faintly. "Yes." I took a deep breath and sat, managing to suppress my emotions for the moment. "Look, it's probably for the best. I'll likely be leaving for Earth in less than a standard year. I shouldn't be starting anything I can't finish. If you really want Bethany, than I wish you the best." She knelt to look me in the eye and some of the old Joanne shone through. "I do want her, Debbie. I think I misjudged you; there may have been a misunderstanding; but you're right, it's best this way." During the following weeks Joanne was fairly good about keeping Bethany from me. There was only one slip: one evening when I walked the university perimeter to clear my thoughts, I saw them in an intimate embrace just before Joanne left to run inside. She looked happy. I did my part and buried myself in work. It was a good trade-off. A few days later I had an appointment with Reni. Mixed with learning Woolf's history and understanding current events, Reni had her questions. I never knew what to expect; it could be anything from the economy of Earth to ancient mythology. I did my best to answer and, more often than not, it was a two-way street, giving me an insight on Sappho culture. I walked down the familiar blue corridor of the faculty wing, passing women my own age and sometimes younger, students seeking counseling or their special advisors for advanced degrees. I wore my assistant professor's silver scarf over a bright dress of red, yellow, and orange print - a camouflage pattern for a world of enormous flowers. It was a long walk; Reni's door entered to a favored corner room, a privilege of her long years at the university, giving her an exterior view in two directions. I gave the thick polished oak of Reni's door a few raps, cursing her choice of wood; it was hard to make a loud enough sound without hurting the knuckles. When I had complained, Reni explained that she had chosen the door for precisely that reason: to discourage casual visitors, figuring that eventually they would subconsciously associate her room with pain and avoid it unless a visit were truly necessary. When I'd told her that she was insane, she'd only laughed. "Come in, Debbie!" came the voice from within the door of pain. I lifted the ancient latch and opened the door, shutting it behind me. Reni's feet rested on her desk; her hands folded in a contemplative tent in her lap. She nodded at my approach as if I were a supplicant. I had learned early on that this arrogance was easily punctured. In fact, she enjoyed women who refused to be cowed. I pulled up the most comfortable chair I could find and placed my feet on the other side of her desk. "What's it to be today, Reni, the mating habits of the ancient French, the evolution of robotics, the history of prostitution?" "Hmm." She rocked back and forth in her very comfortable chair for a few moments. "I think we will talk about you today." I nodded. These were also familiar topics. "Fine. Family, education, morality, favorite vids?" "No. Roll your chair over to the south window and tell me what you see." I did. The window was wide enough to get an excellent view of the south campus, a favorite with the students, it had shade trees, a small stream to wade in, and a large field of grass where women in shorts kicked soccer balls or played an ancient game of catch using a light plastic saucer, thrown with the hand either sidearm or vertically. I described the scene. Reni rolled her chair beside mine and pointed at a girl wading in the stream. "What do you think of her?" I shrugged. "Very pretty girl, maybe 19 standard years old." "I agree. Would you say she has a nice ass?" I laughed. "You want me to tell you if I like the girl's ass?" She smiled. "It would be interesting to get a comparison. You had a fully developed male libido. I'd like to see what the differences are between yours and mine." For the next few hours we compared the women, judging breasts, buttocks, faces, hair and overall appeal. After a while, she offered me beer from her refrigerator. Most of the time we agreed. I tended to like women with smaller breasts and taller than she did, but we were remarkably consistent. We argued sometimes and laughed even more. Then Reni asked me something completely different: "Debbie, how do you see yourself as a woman?" "I suppose I'm pretty, not really beautiful. I'd say I have about average-sized breasts and I wonder sometimes if my butt isn't too big." She shook her head impatiently. "Your ass is fine. Everybody worries about that. Studies have been made on the subject and it remains a mystery. But you underestimate yourself. The surgeons did a superb job. You're a babe. If I were ten - well, okay, forty - years younger, I might be after you myself." The heat rose to my face at the compliment. "Reni, you are a dirty old lady." She grinned and the deep lines around her eyes crinkled into canyons. "I hope so. The day I'm not is the day I die. But that's not the point I was about to make. You're worn out. You need someone to lean on for a while, dance and have a good time. There's no reason I can see why you shouldn't." I sighed. 'Maybe I am letting Joanne get to me too much,' I thought. "There is no reason. And there is someone. I've just I'd been putting it off." "Good. If I found you someone I'd feel like a pimp. I'll leave the room for a few minutes." She gave me a warning look. "Debbie, I expect that you will call her on that nice big vid screen while I'm out." "Yes, mother. I will." "Very good, my child." She patted my head gently. The heavy door shut behind her with a solid clunk. I moved to her chair in front of the net. It wasn't really that tough a decision; actually, I was a little annoyed at myself for needing a nudge to break me from my funk with Joanne. "Directory assistance: personal." I told the screen. "Country, city and name please," it replied in a soothing soprano. "Woolf, Martina, Indira Albright." "There is no one by that name within the specified parameters. Expand search?" She did say she lived just outside Martina. "Expand search 100 kilometers." "There is one listing. Do you wish to contact her now?" "Yes. Caller ID: Debbie Larranti. Image." I smiled for the picture. "Calling." Several seconds later Indira's familiar face appeared. "Debbie! I was hoping you would call. You look good. Do you need a friend, or are you up for something more?" It was good to see her. Her smiling brown face and hair brought back the good memories: laying out naked on the deck half-drunk, listening to my problems, that last kiss, and even rubbing oil on her body. I certainly had no desire to talk about Joanne and me any more. "I'm leaning heavily towards something more, Indira." Big smile. "Great! Are you busy tonight?" That was soon, but it was what I wanted, too. I leaned back in Reni's big soft chair and grinned. "Not unless I want to be. What do you have in mind?" I watched her check something off-screen. "You're living at the University? That's only ten minutes from me. I'll pick you up at six in my car and we'll cruise the wharf district." "I'd love to. I can meet you just outside the main gate." She smiled. "Fine. Wear something fem-casual. See you in a few hours, Debbie." When I disconnected, I relaxed in Reni's chair for a minute, wondering at an odd tingling sensation. I liked Indira, but not so much that my body would react to her mere appearance. And then I had it. Indira had assumed that I was fem the entire conversation, making decisions for me, and I had fallen into that role very easily. I replayed the conversation in my head. I had called her. I could have taken the initiative, call a cab to pick her up or even borrowed Reni's car. After three weeks in Martina, there were nice places that I knew pretty well. It wasn't her assumption that I was a fem that concerned me. She was a few years older than me, or so she thought - actually we were about the same age - a facelift had been a part of Doctor Hackworth's facial surgery, and I looked about three to four years younger than my real age. I had also mentioned that I was mainly fem. It was my automatic acceptance that worried me. I was a woman, fine. But was I a fem, a former man a fem? I hadn't minded being a fem in bed with Wendy. It didn't seem important then; I had man parts and Wendy was well aware of it. I almost laughed. Worrying about being a fem on Sappho was probably only a serious question to a former man. But that odd tingling feeling - I sort of liked it! *** I'd been thinking of my 'date' most of the day. I owed my best efforts to Jezzi to make a good case for Sappho non-interference, and the only way to do that was through research on its culture. The dry texts on Woolf's line of succession and its immigration policies seemed less important that afternoon, however, and my concentration was a little off, so I left the ancient library early and returned to the apartment. I was mildly surprised to see Joanne there. She slept there most nights, but we had kept different hours. Her monitoring by that time consisted mainly of me writing lists of my activities for her to copy and pass on in her weekly spy reports to Jezzi. Most of her time was spent with Bethany, who had taken a few months off from her duties at Woolfline, Inc. "Good afternoon, Joanne," I said upon entering. We were cordial, but hadn't approached the old friendship we'd had. Deep down, I blamed her for not giving me a chance and she blamed me somehow for not trying hard enough. If anything, we were drifting further apart; her world revolved around Bethany now, not me. "Hello, Debbie. I didn't expect you back so soon." "I have to get ready to go out tonight." I removed my colorful scholar's dress. Down to bra and panties, I searched my closet for something "fem-casual." I still had a few business skirts and blouses from my stint at Carver's and some short, casual skirts with matching tank tops for the hotter climate on Paglia. I lay them on the bed and started matching. I had a fair amount of fashion sense, developed by necessity, but I didn't have anything that would be "fem-casual" for Woolf. I wondered if I had enough time to go shopping and skip a shower I probably didn't need, or if I had to wear a business suit. I had about decided on the business suit when Joanne knocked on the open door. Framed in the doorway, leaning against the door, she looked gorgeous. "Need some help?" I wanted to say no, but it was pretty darn obvious that I needed help. I motioned disgustedly toward the bed with my hand. "Believe it or not, I'm trying to make something fem-casual out of this." Her blue eyes widened. "This isn't a research trip?" Fem-casual was a fashion statement for a social setting. It defined a woman as fem in relation to someone else, a fem partner of a couple, or a single girl advertising who she felt she was. I shook my head. "Nope, Debbie has a date tonight." "Really?" She walked in and shook her head sadly at what I had. Her verdict came immediately. "This is impossible, Debbie. You don't have anything to wear for Woolf. You might get away with the suit, but you'd look like a tourist fem on business." "Yeah, that's about what I thought, too. I suppose I can live with it." I started putting the others away. She sighed. "No you're not. Come to my room." I wanted to say no, but I didn't want to disgrace myself with Indira either. "I appreciate this, Joanne." She opened her closet, which was full of clothes and shoes. She had been shopping; at least half of it was a riot of color, clothing bought in Woolf. She pointed to the closet. "Borrow what you need." I pulled out a dozen outfits and tried on one or two skirts and short dresses. Joanne and I were virtually the same size. "Debbie, why did you wait until the last minute? It's like you've never been out with a woman before." I frowned. "What are you talking about? I've been out with Wendy many times." She groaned and looked towards the ceiling. "That's different! I mean a real date." I shrugged. "Sure I have. I've been out with plenty of women, just not in this solar system." She stared at me and laughed. It was the first time I'd heard her laugh in a while and it brought back memories. "No one can say that you haven't had an interesting life." I studied her carefully. She seemed a little nervous for some reason, but I shook it off; she didn't want my help and it wasn't my business anymore. "You can write the book for me after I'm gone, Joanne." I tried on a fourth outfit, a loose mid-thigh length skirt of sky blue and orange and a matching blouse. I twirled it in the mirror and liked the way it moved. "I like this one. If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow this." "Mm. Good choice; it looks very pretty on you. Whoever she is will find you very attractive." I smiled. "Thanks. It's Indira, the woman who sat at our table on the Allred. We got to know each other a little. Thanks again for the loan." She nodded graciously. "Anytime, Debbie." When it was time, I walked the short distance to the gate by the old stone guardhouse, a relic of the medieval days of border raids and insurgencies. The two-story edifice still served, but instead of being a fortification that might blunt an attack, it provided shelter for guards who checked for car passes and provided security for the campus. It wasn't unusual for students or faculty without their own cars to be there; it was a stop for an intermittent bus service to downtown Martina. I'd arrived a few minutes early and stood with students, several dressed like me, patient or bored, waiting to go to town. It had been warm all afternoon, unusual for fall in the north, and the early evening sky was clear with only small Gabriel rising in the west. The forecast was good, so I didn't worry about getting too cold for the light skirt and blouse. I was ready, at least physically; but it was a good nervousness waiting for Indira. Joanne had been nice to loan me the dress, but still, the tension between us! It was relief to get out. Indira flew up to the curb in a low-slung bright yellow convertible, one of the sportier models with the wider tires and high-end electronics. I felt a twinge of jealousy; my own car was still in Paglia. She grinned like a feline with a full meal and ready to prowl - an inscrutable feline with her reflective sunglasses. She reached over and opened the door. "You look good, girl. Get in Debbie, we've got places to go!" A weight fell away; her enthusiasm was exactly what I needed. "Right!" I opened the door and slid in. She wore dom to my fem. Her long brown legs contrasted against white shorts and a loose blouse of yellow and red hung over the waist. I shut the door with an expensive sounding "snick" and barely managed to strap in before we accelerated away smoothly, the only sounds the spinning of a little gravel and the near- silent whine of the electrics. I watched her drive with interest. Taking turns in the open countryside far faster than what was legally allowed, she showed the same joy I had on a free day on the coast road. It felt good to be with her again and I wondered why I had waited so long to call her. "I was happy to hear from you. I wondered if you and Joanne had made up." "No, we never did. Bethany got to her first. I think they're in love." I was surprised how easily I said it. She shrugged, shaking her head. "Her loss." I leaned back in the seat and let the wind sweep my hair away and behind. It had been her loss, maybe, and mine, but there had never really been hope for Joanne and me. It was time to accept it; even if we had hit it off, I would still have had to return to Earth and leave her behind. 'Why am I worried about something that could never have been?' I wondered. I touched her shoulder and smiled. "I'm glad I called, too. Where are we going?" She pointed down the hill and towards a patch of trees and fields towards the coast. "It's still early. I was thinking of a beer and a walk in Harbor Park before we go visit the wharf." I waved towards the horizon and repeated a corny line from a popular historical romance vid. "Lead the way, mighty dom! Your fem will follow." She laughed, a sweet free sound. "Don't worry. I don't ask fems to birth our children until the second date." The park had beer and stands for salty snacks. Indira had plans to eat later, so she bought beer in plastic bottles and we walked the path between shade trees that circled the fields and park. The short sunset was in its last gasp and a few of the stronger stars were already out. Indira didn't speak much, preferring to walk with me, looking at the fading sun, sometimes asking me what kinds of food I liked or things I enjoyed doing. I relaxed a little. Indira was being a good dom, following the rules well. After a while I did my part as a fem and took her hand lightly. It was a fem signal that she could be closer if she wanted. She responded the way I'd hoped and put her hand comfortably around my waist. There are no absolute rules for fems or doms, but there are guidelines. Doms set the pace and direction. A polite dom finds out a fem's preferences before making a major decision, or a decision that affects her. A fem is allowed to dispute a dom's decision, but in practice, a fem would not unless there were a very good reason. Fems also have an obligation to be polite. They set the standards of conduct for the couple. A dom may be rude or overbearing at times, but she is forgiven more often than not because of her obligation to provide guidance and make difficult decisions, which are often stressful. There were not always doms and fems on Sappho, at least, that's not what they called them. When the Outreach landed, the ship brought the prevailing feminist thought that all women were equal and would work together equally to build a new world. With thousands of women, most about the same size and with much the same background, there was often no clear determining factor to decide who would lead or follow. Rotating responsibility, committees, elections and even drawing lots were all methods tried, with mixed results. Finally, government structures and systems emerged that paralleled those of distant Earth. But there was no such structure for personal relationships. Over the course of centuries, women discovered that relationships that lasted were mostly made up of women with clearly defined responsibilities. Associations that lasted longest had a distinct leader and follower with specific rules and obligations to each, and neither partner was generally willing to concede that her role was any less important than her partner's. The terms fem and dom came to represent the two sides of this type of relationship. One of its strengths was that neither a fem nor a dom was necessarily tied to her role. If a dom decided the pressure to lead was too much, or if a fem decided that she would make a better dom, roles could change and sometimes did. A balance of roles had been achieved with about half the population defining themselves as fems, or fem-like and the other half doms or dom-like. Indira's warm hand around my waist comforted and my own slid naturally around hers. We watched Sappho's more distant, hotter sun descend, very aware of each other. I liked her already. If she decided where we went that night, as long as she took my desires into account, it was all right with me. If she abused her authority too much then I would leave. If I contradicted her too often, was rude or too aggressive, than she would find another, more compatible fem. I'd never really been a true fem, except in bed with Wendy, but I couldn't see any reason why I shouldn't try it. Thanks to Barbara and Wendy, I knew how I should act, and it had its advantages. 'All right, Indira, I'll be the best fem I can be and lets see where this goes.' Indira had already paid a small fee to keep the car at the park, so all we had to do was cross the street. Once through the trees, soft, white streetlights illuminated the wharf, a mile stretch of road, lining a series of clubs, restaurants and shops in rustic wooden structures of long defunct fish canneries. Indira and I were only one of many couples on the street holding hands mixed in with small groups of laughing, bouncy women, many from the university, and a few older pairs more interested in dinner than clubbing. From what I'd heard, this was just a taste; in a few hours, the streets would be alive with color and the occasional lights of a police cruiser called in to break up a fight or haul away a drunk. I inhaled the smells of restaurants, bakeries and specialty shops and glanced significantly at my dom. She gave my hand a squeeze. "Yes, I'm hungry, too. Lets go to the Ladyfish." And led me gently to the right. I certainly didn't protest. Indira had taken my wishes into account. 'This is easy!' I followed along like a good fem. I decided I liked having few responsibilities except to look pretty, be polite and respectful. Indira made it a breeze, taking care of those minor decisions that filled every trip into a restaurant: the waiting list, the table, the small choices. I did my part there as well, ordering a Woolf specialty tea instead of a second beer. Indira nodded slightly in approval. I could have had another beer, but a fem is always in control of herself. And so it went, feeling each other out. After we'd finished off a pair of tasty fish that died well: "I had no idea you were a professor, Debbie." "I'm just a visiting assistant professor doing some research in Woolf. In a few months, I'll be in Stein." It was true. I was whatever it took to finish my research with all the credentials to prove it. "I like your car. I have a ten year old Falconess that I like to drive fast on the coast road, but it's nothing like what you have." "I own a profitable trading company in Martina. It pays the bills." I lifted my eyebrows skeptically. That car she had was a little more than the average bill. "Well, okay, it pays a lot of bills." she admitted. She said it as if she were either very rich and didn't care, or she didn't care. I liked it either way. She brought a card from her pocket, wiped the taker and applied her thumb to the approval square. When it blinked green, she stood and held her arm to me politely. "Lets go dancing, Debbie." "My pleasure." I took her hand, rose like a good fem and let her lead the way. The club, suggestively named "Kitty's Hole," was one of the fancier clubs on the wharf. I waited serenely at a corner table while Indira tasked an overly endowed waitress in a pair of tight shorts with our order. I used the time to glance at the inhabitants. I had long become used to seeing women dance with other women in Paglia. Wendy had danced with me a couple of times, although she enjoyed other nocturnal events more. A three-girl band belted out a popular song, the raucous "Mean Jean," a story of a beautiful girl who was a dom to every girl she ever met, breaking hearts everywhere until another girl found her "spot," flipped her around, fem-forced her, and then left her crying. I could relate. I finished half of my drink, a fruity, sweet-sour concoction, before a leering Indira took me by the hand through some bystanders with drinks and roving eyes to the packed floor, a shifting mass of gyrating femininity under moving colored spotlights, constantly mixing and reforming according to the music. We carved out a space for ourselves and moved. This wasn't a dance where one led or followed; there wasn't enough room anyway. I had practiced something like this in the mounta