Apollo Wilde
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 13, 2003
- Posts
- 3,075
Debussy’s Prelude À L'Après Midi D'un Faune stretched out its soothing aural tones in the semi-darkened room. Lit by the warm glow of countless suspended globes of light, the light in the room was that of a half-remembered dream. Spacious and airy, it was scented with the long smoke curls of incense. The golden glow was reflected off of myriad white curved surfaces - the room itself was a great round void, instead of the typical square geometric housing. Above them, on the ceiling, was depicted the deep solar beauty of an exploding gold nebula, before melting into the warm violets of the spinning wheel of a galaxy, before circulating again through the tangles of a reddish pink dawn. The scenes would change from one galactic miracle to another, unhurried as the pair in the bed in the center of the room.
Much like the room itself, the bed was a circle, draped in deep violet and gold bedding. From under the tangle of the violet blanket, satin gold sheets were visible, partially obscured by the body laying atop them. As much as the rest of the molded perfection of the room, the body that lay there was sterile in her near perfection. Sculpted brown limbs stretched lazily across the pale gold of the sheets, a hand twisting the fabric, as the other settled on the expanse of a muscular tan back between her legs. The man between her legs tentatively lifted his hands, grasped her breasts with unsure fingers. His movements were clumsy, but the slow movement of his head between her legs seemed to be much more practiced. Indeed, as she sighed in well-deserved pleasure, his hands moved from her breasts to gather around her waist, and eagerly pull her hips into his mouth. His brown hair was tousled, and he pulled his head up for a gasping breath. Even in the dim light, the flush on his cheeks and the glazed expression of lust was clear in his hooded blue eyes. She’d look back at him, slightly indulgent, and ruffle his already mussed hair.
“You’re doing well! Have you been practicing?”
As he lifted his head to respond, he revealed on her body a deep magenta gem embedded right above her mons. In the muted gold light, it seemed to burn with a fire deep within. Before he could speak, she gently bumped her hips back into his mouth. “Stay on target.” From the curve of his eyes, she could tell he was smiling as he lowered his head again. She hissed, softly, at the renewed contact of his tongue against her folds.
Mozart’s Symphony #40 In G Minor, K 550 - Molto Allegro started, and, struggling to free her hand, the woman slapped the intercom button. The woman’s voice that followed perfectly matched the harried sound of the strings. “Regulus, you’re going to be late! We can’t look worse than whatever Dyanmis they picked. Get a move on.”
“Working on it,” sighed Regulus, trying to keep her tone of voice steady. Sotto voice, she angled her head down, spoke lower, “A little more to the left. Do you feel the way the skin bulges around that point? Press your tongue there…..good, good….” Despite her best intentions, her voice shook slightly. In a fuller voice, Regulus said, “All right, Khya, thank you.”
“Tell the young Tiberius that I said ‘Hello’, continued Khya, dryly, before disconnecting.
With a groan, she gently angled her hips away from the young man’s mouth. Taking the hint, he let go of her waist, moving to sit up. Sitting on a rounded “edge” of her bed, his neglected erection twitched slightly, a clear bead of precum collected at the rounded head.
“Lights, 60 percent, please.” The overall ambient light of the room glowed stronger, and rather than the individual globes of light, the entire room brightened to a warm yellow. In this light, it was easier to discern individual features. As lean and as muscular as a ballet dancer, the woman, Regulus, appeared to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, un-mussed even by her recent activities. Her breasts were full and sat high on her chest, with little space between them. Marked by deep brown areolas and nipples, she playfully took one of Tiberius’s hands and placed it on her right breast. Encouraged by the action, he squeezed softly, before moving to capture a nipple between his fingertips. She smiled, and leaned into his touch.
With a shy smile of his own, he leaned forward, his blue eyes questioning. Acquiescing to his unspoken request, she leaned forward, covering his lips with her own. Within a few moments, the kiss had noticeably deepened, and even over the soft, resumed strains of Debussy, his soft growl could be heard. Within moments, they had tumbled back onto the bed, him eagerly straddling her, and she, making no attempt to stop him. Clumsily, his hips pressed in between her legs, nudging, rubbing, before one careful thrust brought the fluted head of his cock to nestle just within her. Playfully, she bucked her hips into his, bringing the full length of his cock to bury deeply within her. His face creased into an expression of sheer bliss, and, with a grin, she looked over at the time display neatly shown on the wall.
“I’m sure I can be a little late….”
+++++++++
“A little late” turned out to be two standard hours.
After escorting the very stated Tiberius out of her room, freshly washed and changed -and appreciative beyond his unusual eloquence, which she took as a compliment-, she’d hurried into the bathroom herself, washing the traces of his semen away from her inner thighs and the black tangle of her public hair. If she hurried through the shower, she’d have enough time to dress, give her hair a simple style, and be out the door. If she picked out an elegant enough outfit, she was sure it’d mask her otherwise hurried appeal. And, wiping the steam away from the mirror, she stopped to admire the youthful flush in her cheeks that her multiple orgasms had awarded her. Really, there couldn’t be anything that was much more flattering to her complexion than THAT.
A few swipes of black mascara, a coat of deep pink lip gloss, and a liberal misting of fragrance from the fragrance jet system she’d recently installed (worth every cent and then some - she’d wondered how she’d lived without one), she dashed out of her room in a cloud of sensual fragrance, hastily wrapping herself in a sheer white under suit with gold highlights. Throwing an ornately woven gold and violet tunic over the suit, she selected a heavy gold belt to sit at her waist, and slipped her feet into her favorite gold curled toe slippers. She’d slicked a couple of hairs back into her bun, and topped it off by wrapping a thin gold chain around it.
Dashing out of her room, she ran directly into the nearly apoplectic Khya. Khya was an older woman - olive skinned, dark eyed, and with jet black hair with beautiful streaks of gray at her temples. She was more muscular as Regulus, a physique that suggested either playing tennis or rock climbing. She had long been ready, with a lovely deep maroon gown that brought out the sun-kissed tint of her skin, a heavy garnet necklace and bracelets, and the carnelian earrings that Tir-Anna had bought her for her 90th birthday.
“You know, when Tir-Anna hired me to come over here as your stylist, I don’t think she meant for you to just get dressed in whatever because your last lesson went late,” she clucked, grabbing at Regulus’s arm as she tried to dash past. “We’re going BACK to the bathroom, and BACK to your closet, so I can do what I was paid an astronomical amount of money to do!”
“Oh, come now, Khya, I don’t look that bad, do I?” Regulus offered, with a sheepish grin. She had, after all, thought she looked okay.
“The only thing that’s working for you is that redness in your cheeks. I take it Tiberius is learning well?” Khya asked as she steadily pushed the shorter woman back through the immaculate hallways and to the bedroom.
“He is, he is! I’m quite pleased with his progress. His parents set up his engagement, you know, to that Numidia of the Badari.”
Khya let out a low whistle of appreciation and surprise. “Wow, the Badari really trying to build up on their name, aren’t they?”
“No kidding, right? But the whole thing was almost called off with that little priss decided that Tiberius wasn’t a good enough kisser, like she had the status to even say so! So they all about just dumped the poor boy in my lap and expected me to cram nearly 6 months of lessons into three weeks! The schedule re-arranging alone was a nightmare. I told everyone to take it up with the Sulla Felix.”
“And?” Khya had stripped Regulus of her robe, and was now peeling the woman free of her body suit, “By the way, your thighs look fantastic; glad to see you’re still keeping up with the ballet!”
“And, you know, the Sulla Felix are known for their supreme good-natures so all complaints just vanished. Tiberius is a good boy; he’s eager to please this girl,” Regulus complied by lifting one foot, and then another, to ease out of the body suit, “and thank you! Still not performance level, but I don’t think I ever will be. I started in academia too soon.” Now nude, Regulus sat down on the bench in her bathroom. Like her bedroom, her bathroom was spacious enough to almost to be called a house within itself. It had an “entry room”, meant for brief showers, pre-bathing scrubs, and finishing touches. Done in warm pine, the floor was white marble with veins of lapis lazuli with a drain in the center to allow water to slough off. Pine cabinets held a variety of sheer robes and bathing tools, salts, gels, and oils. As she rearranged herself on the bench, Khya sighed in annoyance as she carefully unzipped her gown to slip on a robe. As she gathered her supplies from the varying cabinets, Regulus watched her, chin in palm.
“So are you telling me, Moderate Historian Regulus, wanted to be a ballerina and not a highly lauded member of the Teaching Council?” Khya knelt in front of Regulus, and began to pumice the woman’s feet.
“Something like that. When I was younger, I thought it would have been a dream come true, even though I started ballet very late. You know I was 14 when I actually started taking the classes? All I did before then was read and paint.”
“So why not a painter?”
“Dancing seemed more glamorous. And I liked how reading didn’t leave you as open to criticism.” Regulus leaned back, her golden eyes moving up towards the ceiling. They weren’t natural, of course - a simple genetic procedure she’d undergone in her late teens. Her eyes, at birth, had been a dark brown. The modification, however, looked surprisingly natural, and many were complimentary towards it. If anything, she was praised for having so few procedures done - just her eyes, and the modification to her skin that made her seem as if she was dusted over with the finest of gold dust under certain light and that was entirely subject to her control. After all, it wouldn’t do to just walk around glowing gold at any given moment. Everything else about her, from the chiseled beauty of her high cheekbones, the elegance of her neck, the fullness of her lips, and the broad curve of her nose were all there by natural genetics - i.e., features of her parents and ancestors before them, perfectly stirred and molded into what was Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak.
Her beauty, in all actuality, would be fairly common among the Aperions - in fact, it was something that wasn’t usually commented on or considered noticeable. If anything, in their society, she was something of a Plain Jane - no direct and jarring modifications (which she personally didn’t agree with), but what she did not have in “looks”, she more than made up for in intelligence and conversation, and had no shortage of lovers that she would have to schedule in between her younger clients.
“Dancers have a short lifespan, though - even now, with all of the physical care that’s available,” murmured Khya as she began to carefully apply a deep purple polish to Regulus’s toes. Pleased by the choice, Regulus suppressed a small grin as she considered Khya’s question.
Khya was one of the best stylists that money could buy - well within the top fifteen in the Aperion Commonwealth, and within the top five of the capital city, Capua. The rumor was that her success relied upon knowing what her customer wanted before they did, and, as Regulus admired the deep amethyst polish, she knew that the reputation was well deserved. Tir-Anna was going to get a spectacular birthday gift. Though, truth be told, she had her suspicious that her doting older sister also hired Khya to make sure that the Al Simak were represented to the best of any society. Anything half-done simply wouldn’t do.
“That’s true, but that’s part of the appeal of them to most people, I think.” Strange - she’d just met Khya about a week ago, and already, she felt as if the woman was as close a confidant as her best student, the erstwhile Augustus. Now there was a young man she’d be sorry to go. Ah well. Part of being a teacher, really…though he had stayed on much longer than the usual requirements, and still had no prospect of a Mated Partner. The rumor was that he had a crush on her and was seeking to potentially increase his ability to force a Mating between the two of them. A charming sentiment, but everyone knew a Mating couldn’t be forced - which is what made the whole Tiberius situation a little odd to her. The Badari were apparently so keen on building up their family name that they were going to force a marriage on people who clearly did not show any Mating potential. Or perhaps they did - Regulus tried to focus less on the details as to what brought her students to her, and more on producing tangible results. Nearly 4 decades in, and she still had yet to receive one bad review.
“Mmmhmm,” and Khya finished with the polish wand, raising a foot to her eye level to make sure that the delicate gold veins that ran through the polish were acceptable. With a nod, she gestured for Regulus to get up. “Hit the bath again while I make an excuse to your mother as to why her daughter is going to be hours late to a banquet held in her honor.”
“Aye aye, ma’am!”
++++++++++++
Luckily for them, the banquet had started with a two hour delay - something about communications with the Dyanmis Collective being offline, or plague by static. So, instead of being multiple hours late, Regulus was merely fashionably late - about 30 to 45 minutes after the proposed start time. Though it may have annoyed the more organized Dyanmis that were there, the few higher Aperions that were in attendance were charmed.
Personally, Regulus was surprised to see the banquet was held in Naqada, a small, country town that sat on the ever changing border of the Aperion Commonwealth and the Dyanmis Collective. Naqada was an hour’s drive outside of Capua, the normally 48 hour long trip magnificently shortened by the bullet train and special provisions made for Regulus. The town, on the outside, could really barely be called a town by Aperion standards - it was a country hub, largely meant for agriculture. For years, it had produced a bountiful harvest for Aperion society, and as such, was always considered an “off-limits” territory for the war. While the Dyanmis Collective may have been hungry for the downfall of the Aperion Collective, they would not go so far as to destroy one of the most fruitful farmlands in enemy territory. And so Naqada was largely left unmolested, its waving fields of grain mingled among orchards spanning for acres.
As Naqada didn’t boast more than the occasional expansive Aperion home, Regulus wasn’t too surprised to find that the banquet was being held at the home of one of the donating politicians, a clever and pity man by the name of Lysander Rus-Inovich, of the Lacedae. At least 200 years old, he kept the appearance of a man in his 50s; that alone was the miracle of the advanced plastic surgeries of the Aperions. Lysander had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and had done much on the UN Spacey council in keeping the war as cool as it was. It’d been years since the last blatant attack (although guerrilla tactics were still common) on any main Aperion city, and his popularity ensured him an office for life. Now, as to where his money came from, it was a well-known secret that he enjoyed sourcing grunt labor to the Baseline population of the Dynamis Collective. While the two sides were outwardly at war, those who could make a dime off of the other still went about business as usual.
Lysander’s home, though, was as Aperion as they came - a masterpiece of Aperion post-modern architecture, with curved angular solar panel roofs, and walls made entirely of windows, offering a 360 view of the rolling fields around them. The right side of the home gave way to a giant swimming pool, in which several other members of high society stood around with glasses and small plates of food within their hands. Round, mute serving robots zoomed at calf level between guests, refreshing glasses and disposing of nibbled food. An Aperion opera singer stood in the corner of the main room, flanked by a small chamber orchestra. The clear dulcet tones cut through even the dull roar of multiple conversations, and at the end of each song, there was a quiet smattering of applause. As twilight was setting in, the main hall was drenched in the rich pink, gold, and violet hues of the sunset. In the far distance, the flickering lights of Capua twinkled at the horizon.
As Regulus entered, it was to the sound of muted applause and raised glasses, and a few muted cries of appreciation. She nodded her head as she entered, giving a small wave now and again to the few familiar faces that she saw. Her mother, Saiph al Jabbar Deneb, was among them, and the older woman rushed over, enveloping Regulus in a massive hug, before pulling away and holding her out at arm’s length.
“My stars, you look wonderful! Khya’s outdone herself!” The family resemblance was in the face - truly, Saiph looked as if she was an older, heavier Regulus, though not by much. Smile lines curved at the older woman’s eyes, and frown lines cut lightly into the skin on either side of the once full lips. Saiph was a woman that one could easily call “handsome” - taller than her daughter, with the light musculature of a swimmer, she was dressed in long robes of royal blue trimmed in star-spangled gold, and a twilight colored gem set between her thick gray eyebrows. Her hair was salt and pepper, and radiated from behind a jeweled headband in kinky waves. She wore no other jewelry, save for rings on each finger and large lapis lazuli earrings. She smelled perpetually of sweets, as one of the woman’s hobbies was baking - something that was considered charming for a scientist of such high standing.
“Come, come, there are many here that want to meet you! But before we make introductions, have you eaten? I’ve made my chiffon cake, you know, the one that you like so well. Don’t worry about being late, I explained the situation to everyone, and all is forgiven for the most part. I will warn you that Dilgan is here and is none too happy about it.” Saiph’s tone changed, darkening a bit at the mention of her other daughter. “But she seems to be getting along well with most of whom she’s spoken to tonight.”
“Dilgan’s always been a good talker,” Regulus said, somewhat distractedly. She had known that her other older sister was going to be there, and no amount of luxurious pampering at the hands of another could ease that stab of pain. Sensing her daughter’s ill ease, Saiph squeezed Regulus’s hand, the cool metal of her rings cutting into the flesh.
“Don’t worry about her - this is a celebration for you! You have exceeded all of our expectations and we’re all so very, very proud of you.” Tears threatened to spill over in the older woman’s eyes, before she quickly wiped away at them. “Tir-Anna sends her love; she wasn’t able to attend. The baby had a learning test today with the Teaching Council.”
Regulus absent-mindedly nodded, reaching for a glass of sparkling champagne from one of the serving robots. Taking a small sip, she looked around, the tanzanite earrings she wore catching the light. Khya had chosen a dark purple figure hugging dress for Regulus that left her arms bare. Although it was an incredibly simple gown, elegant in its design, the designer and fabric material alone meant that the cost ranged in the thousands. If the banquet had been publicized, it surely would have sent the designer’s name to the top of the “Most Wanted” list. The back of the dress scooped low, nearly revealing the top of Regulus’s rear, flattering the dip of her waist and the slow sway of her hips with the loose hanging fabric around the scoop. The front of the dress covered her up high to her throat, the design of curved vines cut carefully to showcase the pale aqua gem that Regulus had embedded in her throat. The one above her mons was covered, but showed faint traces through - enticing to any Aperion who was familiar to the gem classes, and looking like an odd bulge to the few Dyanmis Collective members in attendance.
Her dark brown curly hair had been swept off of her face and neck, pulled back in a bun similar to what she’d worn before, but this time, carefully studded with pale purple gems. The makeup was minimum, black eyeliner to bring out her gold eyes, and a soft neutral lip to allow the shape of her mouth to entice.
“How is the baby doing?” Regulus asked, before allowing herself a small laugh, “You know, I’m going to always call her ‘the baby’ like she doesn’t have a name!”
“You and everyone else! I don’t think the child knows she has a name other than, ‘the baby’.” Saiph reached for a passing plate of hors d’oeuvres, plucking free an ornate vegetable and seafood tart. Taking a small bite, her eyes closed in bliss before she offered it to her daughter, “Lysander’s really gone out of his way for this - I don’t think I’ve had better food at a gathering for scientists. Everything’s completely fresh and not replicated.”
“It couldn’t have been, if you were bringing some of your cakes,” and Regulus took a bite from the proffered tart, before quickly devouring it. “That is good!”
“Keep your manners, child - the Dyanmis Collective is on guard looking for any sort of sloppy behavior,” Saiph said with a sniff. “The few that I’ve seen eat and the few I’ve talked to are absolute boors. You know they have nothing of this finery in that horrid little mud Collective of theirs and they’re doing their best not to let their savagery show in the face of finery. Look at what they’re wearing,” she added, giving a dismissive look to two men talking. Unlike the Aperions present, who were dressed in the finest of clothing, the Dyanmis Collective members could be told by their monochromatic military clothing.
“Moth-eeerrrr,” Regulus stressed, downing the rest of her champagne. “Leave them be. The whole point of the project was to work together.” Looking somewhat abashed by her daughter correcting her, Saiph smiled, and gently took her daughter’s chin in her hand. “You are right, my beauty. Thank you,” and releasing Regulus’s chin, she began to stride purposefully forward. “Let’s get you with some of my cake, and then, we can make the introductions. Your partner from the Dyanmis Collective has been selected, and he is here tonight. Once you two have a chance to meet, Lysander and his counterpart from the Dyanmis Collective will fill in everyone here on the next steps of the Project.”
Regulus allowed herself to be lead to one of the several dining tables, spread with varying dishes and complex floral arrangements. In the center of the largest table, there was a detailed ice sculpture of a young woman surrounded by two swans with outstretched wings. Classy. Artistic enough to please the Aperions, no political statement to offend the Dyanmis Collective. Beneath the woman’s spread hands were the main courses - stuffed turkeys, grilled salmon - anything and everything that anyone, regardless of any sort of dietary restriction, could take part in and still sample at least ten different dishes. To the left were the dessert tables, armed with a dazzling array of cakes, puddings, cookies, ice cream. Saiph took a knife and sliced into a relatively “modest” cake, nearly translucent, and filtered through with rose petals and sprinkled with candied lavender blossoms. Setting the slice down on the immaculate rose print china, she handed it to Regulus.
“Here, my sweet, have this - I’ve got to get back to the Council, but I will meet with you shortly after the announcements,” and off she was, nearly vanishing into the crowd of people. Standing there with the plate in her right hand and a small silver fork in the left, Regulus took a small bite before leaning up against one of the massive window walls, just surveying all that was taking place in front of her. The glass was cool against her back, and soothing. Above the heads of the people, the sky deepened into the first hints of night.
With the sweet floral taste of the cake on her tongue, Regulus slowly savored each bite as she looked around. She knew several of the people there, and extra introductions would not really be necessary. Many, after their initial wave or spoken hellos, had given her room to speak with her mother and to move to the refreshment table. It was well known that Regulus was a teacher - and she would be given space to get her head in the “game” before anyone would start a conversation. While it may have appeared isolating, it was considered the height of courtesy, and something that she was thankful of. The intervention of her mother had helped as well - Saiph was always treated with a sense of awe. It had not been hard to find where her mother had landed in the crowd; her blue robes gave her away, as always, and she was surrounded by several high standing Aperions - and Dilgan was among them.
With a slight shudder, she focused on licking the remnants of the creamy cake away from her lips. As she was in the process of cutting herself another slice (as an adult, she was free to have her sweets before her dinner, thank you very much), loud applause startled her. Quickly cutting her slice free (and making it a much thicker piece than before), she flipped it onto her plate so she could focus on what was happening.
Towards the back of the main room, to the left of the singer and the small orchestra, the floor had morphed into a podium, and old Lysander himself was going up the steps. The applause continued for several minutes, before he held his hands up to still it. He was a brown-skinned man with hawkish features - a thin angular nose, thin lips, sharp eyes that curved up at the corners, and curly brown hair. He cleared his throat, and began to speak. To his credit, he had a soothing sonorous voice that didn’t match his personal appearance - so much the luckier for those that he had to address. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight fell on him.
“Greetings, those of the Aperion Commonwealth and those of the Dyanmis Collective. How is the food? My chefs are asking when they can finally sit down!” A light smattering of polite laughter from the Aperions. Regulus didn’t join them as she was enjoying her second piece of cake. Unlike her parents, she hadn’t inherited a tolerance for bad politician jokes. But the cake was divine and she’d spied some grilled fish in spicy coconut milk that had her name on it, as soon as she finished the cake.
“But please, make yourselves at home. At least for the next hour!” Another smattering of chuckles. “Yes, I am aware that this banquet will be brief; briefer than the likes of what I usually throw. But we are all here under unusual circumstances. Ten years ago, as you all can recall, we started the Consolido Project, hoping to combat the effects of the Watchers, the beings that have come from beyond our planet’s reach. And in those ten years, we have seen many follies, taken many risks, and had many triumphs. It gives me great pleasure to further introduce those who have helped us succeed - our two chosen pilots: Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak - Regulus, where are you? Ah, there you are!”
And a pillar of light focused on Regulus as she hastily finished chewing the bite of cake in her mouth, recovering to look all the lady that her mother had insisted on her being this evening. Deftly, she’d put the plate down on the table in front of her, freeing her hands to wave at the round of applause that greeted her. She’d concentrate now, allowing the gold to rise to her skin level, giving her an ethereal glow.
“Now, as I was saying - Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak, and Caelus Vel Baelsar of the Dyanmis Collective!”
Still under the warm glare of the spotlight, Regulus was aware that she could not crane her neck to see who this other pilot was. So, still standing, with her arms neatly by her side, she waited to see what this man would look like, if she’d walked past him before without so much as a second glance….
Much like the room itself, the bed was a circle, draped in deep violet and gold bedding. From under the tangle of the violet blanket, satin gold sheets were visible, partially obscured by the body laying atop them. As much as the rest of the molded perfection of the room, the body that lay there was sterile in her near perfection. Sculpted brown limbs stretched lazily across the pale gold of the sheets, a hand twisting the fabric, as the other settled on the expanse of a muscular tan back between her legs. The man between her legs tentatively lifted his hands, grasped her breasts with unsure fingers. His movements were clumsy, but the slow movement of his head between her legs seemed to be much more practiced. Indeed, as she sighed in well-deserved pleasure, his hands moved from her breasts to gather around her waist, and eagerly pull her hips into his mouth. His brown hair was tousled, and he pulled his head up for a gasping breath. Even in the dim light, the flush on his cheeks and the glazed expression of lust was clear in his hooded blue eyes. She’d look back at him, slightly indulgent, and ruffle his already mussed hair.
“You’re doing well! Have you been practicing?”
As he lifted his head to respond, he revealed on her body a deep magenta gem embedded right above her mons. In the muted gold light, it seemed to burn with a fire deep within. Before he could speak, she gently bumped her hips back into his mouth. “Stay on target.” From the curve of his eyes, she could tell he was smiling as he lowered his head again. She hissed, softly, at the renewed contact of his tongue against her folds.
Mozart’s Symphony #40 In G Minor, K 550 - Molto Allegro started, and, struggling to free her hand, the woman slapped the intercom button. The woman’s voice that followed perfectly matched the harried sound of the strings. “Regulus, you’re going to be late! We can’t look worse than whatever Dyanmis they picked. Get a move on.”
“Working on it,” sighed Regulus, trying to keep her tone of voice steady. Sotto voice, she angled her head down, spoke lower, “A little more to the left. Do you feel the way the skin bulges around that point? Press your tongue there…..good, good….” Despite her best intentions, her voice shook slightly. In a fuller voice, Regulus said, “All right, Khya, thank you.”
“Tell the young Tiberius that I said ‘Hello’, continued Khya, dryly, before disconnecting.
With a groan, she gently angled her hips away from the young man’s mouth. Taking the hint, he let go of her waist, moving to sit up. Sitting on a rounded “edge” of her bed, his neglected erection twitched slightly, a clear bead of precum collected at the rounded head.
“Lights, 60 percent, please.” The overall ambient light of the room glowed stronger, and rather than the individual globes of light, the entire room brightened to a warm yellow. In this light, it was easier to discern individual features. As lean and as muscular as a ballet dancer, the woman, Regulus, appeared to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, un-mussed even by her recent activities. Her breasts were full and sat high on her chest, with little space between them. Marked by deep brown areolas and nipples, she playfully took one of Tiberius’s hands and placed it on her right breast. Encouraged by the action, he squeezed softly, before moving to capture a nipple between his fingertips. She smiled, and leaned into his touch.
With a shy smile of his own, he leaned forward, his blue eyes questioning. Acquiescing to his unspoken request, she leaned forward, covering his lips with her own. Within a few moments, the kiss had noticeably deepened, and even over the soft, resumed strains of Debussy, his soft growl could be heard. Within moments, they had tumbled back onto the bed, him eagerly straddling her, and she, making no attempt to stop him. Clumsily, his hips pressed in between her legs, nudging, rubbing, before one careful thrust brought the fluted head of his cock to nestle just within her. Playfully, she bucked her hips into his, bringing the full length of his cock to bury deeply within her. His face creased into an expression of sheer bliss, and, with a grin, she looked over at the time display neatly shown on the wall.
“I’m sure I can be a little late….”
+++++++++
“A little late” turned out to be two standard hours.
After escorting the very stated Tiberius out of her room, freshly washed and changed -and appreciative beyond his unusual eloquence, which she took as a compliment-, she’d hurried into the bathroom herself, washing the traces of his semen away from her inner thighs and the black tangle of her public hair. If she hurried through the shower, she’d have enough time to dress, give her hair a simple style, and be out the door. If she picked out an elegant enough outfit, she was sure it’d mask her otherwise hurried appeal. And, wiping the steam away from the mirror, she stopped to admire the youthful flush in her cheeks that her multiple orgasms had awarded her. Really, there couldn’t be anything that was much more flattering to her complexion than THAT.
A few swipes of black mascara, a coat of deep pink lip gloss, and a liberal misting of fragrance from the fragrance jet system she’d recently installed (worth every cent and then some - she’d wondered how she’d lived without one), she dashed out of her room in a cloud of sensual fragrance, hastily wrapping herself in a sheer white under suit with gold highlights. Throwing an ornately woven gold and violet tunic over the suit, she selected a heavy gold belt to sit at her waist, and slipped her feet into her favorite gold curled toe slippers. She’d slicked a couple of hairs back into her bun, and topped it off by wrapping a thin gold chain around it.
Dashing out of her room, she ran directly into the nearly apoplectic Khya. Khya was an older woman - olive skinned, dark eyed, and with jet black hair with beautiful streaks of gray at her temples. She was more muscular as Regulus, a physique that suggested either playing tennis or rock climbing. She had long been ready, with a lovely deep maroon gown that brought out the sun-kissed tint of her skin, a heavy garnet necklace and bracelets, and the carnelian earrings that Tir-Anna had bought her for her 90th birthday.
“You know, when Tir-Anna hired me to come over here as your stylist, I don’t think she meant for you to just get dressed in whatever because your last lesson went late,” she clucked, grabbing at Regulus’s arm as she tried to dash past. “We’re going BACK to the bathroom, and BACK to your closet, so I can do what I was paid an astronomical amount of money to do!”
“Oh, come now, Khya, I don’t look that bad, do I?” Regulus offered, with a sheepish grin. She had, after all, thought she looked okay.
“The only thing that’s working for you is that redness in your cheeks. I take it Tiberius is learning well?” Khya asked as she steadily pushed the shorter woman back through the immaculate hallways and to the bedroom.
“He is, he is! I’m quite pleased with his progress. His parents set up his engagement, you know, to that Numidia of the Badari.”
Khya let out a low whistle of appreciation and surprise. “Wow, the Badari really trying to build up on their name, aren’t they?”
“No kidding, right? But the whole thing was almost called off with that little priss decided that Tiberius wasn’t a good enough kisser, like she had the status to even say so! So they all about just dumped the poor boy in my lap and expected me to cram nearly 6 months of lessons into three weeks! The schedule re-arranging alone was a nightmare. I told everyone to take it up with the Sulla Felix.”
“And?” Khya had stripped Regulus of her robe, and was now peeling the woman free of her body suit, “By the way, your thighs look fantastic; glad to see you’re still keeping up with the ballet!”
“And, you know, the Sulla Felix are known for their supreme good-natures so all complaints just vanished. Tiberius is a good boy; he’s eager to please this girl,” Regulus complied by lifting one foot, and then another, to ease out of the body suit, “and thank you! Still not performance level, but I don’t think I ever will be. I started in academia too soon.” Now nude, Regulus sat down on the bench in her bathroom. Like her bedroom, her bathroom was spacious enough to almost to be called a house within itself. It had an “entry room”, meant for brief showers, pre-bathing scrubs, and finishing touches. Done in warm pine, the floor was white marble with veins of lapis lazuli with a drain in the center to allow water to slough off. Pine cabinets held a variety of sheer robes and bathing tools, salts, gels, and oils. As she rearranged herself on the bench, Khya sighed in annoyance as she carefully unzipped her gown to slip on a robe. As she gathered her supplies from the varying cabinets, Regulus watched her, chin in palm.
“So are you telling me, Moderate Historian Regulus, wanted to be a ballerina and not a highly lauded member of the Teaching Council?” Khya knelt in front of Regulus, and began to pumice the woman’s feet.
“Something like that. When I was younger, I thought it would have been a dream come true, even though I started ballet very late. You know I was 14 when I actually started taking the classes? All I did before then was read and paint.”
“So why not a painter?”
“Dancing seemed more glamorous. And I liked how reading didn’t leave you as open to criticism.” Regulus leaned back, her golden eyes moving up towards the ceiling. They weren’t natural, of course - a simple genetic procedure she’d undergone in her late teens. Her eyes, at birth, had been a dark brown. The modification, however, looked surprisingly natural, and many were complimentary towards it. If anything, she was praised for having so few procedures done - just her eyes, and the modification to her skin that made her seem as if she was dusted over with the finest of gold dust under certain light and that was entirely subject to her control. After all, it wouldn’t do to just walk around glowing gold at any given moment. Everything else about her, from the chiseled beauty of her high cheekbones, the elegance of her neck, the fullness of her lips, and the broad curve of her nose were all there by natural genetics - i.e., features of her parents and ancestors before them, perfectly stirred and molded into what was Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak.
Her beauty, in all actuality, would be fairly common among the Aperions - in fact, it was something that wasn’t usually commented on or considered noticeable. If anything, in their society, she was something of a Plain Jane - no direct and jarring modifications (which she personally didn’t agree with), but what she did not have in “looks”, she more than made up for in intelligence and conversation, and had no shortage of lovers that she would have to schedule in between her younger clients.
“Dancers have a short lifespan, though - even now, with all of the physical care that’s available,” murmured Khya as she began to carefully apply a deep purple polish to Regulus’s toes. Pleased by the choice, Regulus suppressed a small grin as she considered Khya’s question.
Khya was one of the best stylists that money could buy - well within the top fifteen in the Aperion Commonwealth, and within the top five of the capital city, Capua. The rumor was that her success relied upon knowing what her customer wanted before they did, and, as Regulus admired the deep amethyst polish, she knew that the reputation was well deserved. Tir-Anna was going to get a spectacular birthday gift. Though, truth be told, she had her suspicious that her doting older sister also hired Khya to make sure that the Al Simak were represented to the best of any society. Anything half-done simply wouldn’t do.
“That’s true, but that’s part of the appeal of them to most people, I think.” Strange - she’d just met Khya about a week ago, and already, she felt as if the woman was as close a confidant as her best student, the erstwhile Augustus. Now there was a young man she’d be sorry to go. Ah well. Part of being a teacher, really…though he had stayed on much longer than the usual requirements, and still had no prospect of a Mated Partner. The rumor was that he had a crush on her and was seeking to potentially increase his ability to force a Mating between the two of them. A charming sentiment, but everyone knew a Mating couldn’t be forced - which is what made the whole Tiberius situation a little odd to her. The Badari were apparently so keen on building up their family name that they were going to force a marriage on people who clearly did not show any Mating potential. Or perhaps they did - Regulus tried to focus less on the details as to what brought her students to her, and more on producing tangible results. Nearly 4 decades in, and she still had yet to receive one bad review.
“Mmmhmm,” and Khya finished with the polish wand, raising a foot to her eye level to make sure that the delicate gold veins that ran through the polish were acceptable. With a nod, she gestured for Regulus to get up. “Hit the bath again while I make an excuse to your mother as to why her daughter is going to be hours late to a banquet held in her honor.”
“Aye aye, ma’am!”
++++++++++++
Luckily for them, the banquet had started with a two hour delay - something about communications with the Dyanmis Collective being offline, or plague by static. So, instead of being multiple hours late, Regulus was merely fashionably late - about 30 to 45 minutes after the proposed start time. Though it may have annoyed the more organized Dyanmis that were there, the few higher Aperions that were in attendance were charmed.
Personally, Regulus was surprised to see the banquet was held in Naqada, a small, country town that sat on the ever changing border of the Aperion Commonwealth and the Dyanmis Collective. Naqada was an hour’s drive outside of Capua, the normally 48 hour long trip magnificently shortened by the bullet train and special provisions made for Regulus. The town, on the outside, could really barely be called a town by Aperion standards - it was a country hub, largely meant for agriculture. For years, it had produced a bountiful harvest for Aperion society, and as such, was always considered an “off-limits” territory for the war. While the Dyanmis Collective may have been hungry for the downfall of the Aperion Collective, they would not go so far as to destroy one of the most fruitful farmlands in enemy territory. And so Naqada was largely left unmolested, its waving fields of grain mingled among orchards spanning for acres.
As Naqada didn’t boast more than the occasional expansive Aperion home, Regulus wasn’t too surprised to find that the banquet was being held at the home of one of the donating politicians, a clever and pity man by the name of Lysander Rus-Inovich, of the Lacedae. At least 200 years old, he kept the appearance of a man in his 50s; that alone was the miracle of the advanced plastic surgeries of the Aperions. Lysander had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and had done much on the UN Spacey council in keeping the war as cool as it was. It’d been years since the last blatant attack (although guerrilla tactics were still common) on any main Aperion city, and his popularity ensured him an office for life. Now, as to where his money came from, it was a well-known secret that he enjoyed sourcing grunt labor to the Baseline population of the Dynamis Collective. While the two sides were outwardly at war, those who could make a dime off of the other still went about business as usual.
Lysander’s home, though, was as Aperion as they came - a masterpiece of Aperion post-modern architecture, with curved angular solar panel roofs, and walls made entirely of windows, offering a 360 view of the rolling fields around them. The right side of the home gave way to a giant swimming pool, in which several other members of high society stood around with glasses and small plates of food within their hands. Round, mute serving robots zoomed at calf level between guests, refreshing glasses and disposing of nibbled food. An Aperion opera singer stood in the corner of the main room, flanked by a small chamber orchestra. The clear dulcet tones cut through even the dull roar of multiple conversations, and at the end of each song, there was a quiet smattering of applause. As twilight was setting in, the main hall was drenched in the rich pink, gold, and violet hues of the sunset. In the far distance, the flickering lights of Capua twinkled at the horizon.
As Regulus entered, it was to the sound of muted applause and raised glasses, and a few muted cries of appreciation. She nodded her head as she entered, giving a small wave now and again to the few familiar faces that she saw. Her mother, Saiph al Jabbar Deneb, was among them, and the older woman rushed over, enveloping Regulus in a massive hug, before pulling away and holding her out at arm’s length.
“My stars, you look wonderful! Khya’s outdone herself!” The family resemblance was in the face - truly, Saiph looked as if she was an older, heavier Regulus, though not by much. Smile lines curved at the older woman’s eyes, and frown lines cut lightly into the skin on either side of the once full lips. Saiph was a woman that one could easily call “handsome” - taller than her daughter, with the light musculature of a swimmer, she was dressed in long robes of royal blue trimmed in star-spangled gold, and a twilight colored gem set between her thick gray eyebrows. Her hair was salt and pepper, and radiated from behind a jeweled headband in kinky waves. She wore no other jewelry, save for rings on each finger and large lapis lazuli earrings. She smelled perpetually of sweets, as one of the woman’s hobbies was baking - something that was considered charming for a scientist of such high standing.
“Come, come, there are many here that want to meet you! But before we make introductions, have you eaten? I’ve made my chiffon cake, you know, the one that you like so well. Don’t worry about being late, I explained the situation to everyone, and all is forgiven for the most part. I will warn you that Dilgan is here and is none too happy about it.” Saiph’s tone changed, darkening a bit at the mention of her other daughter. “But she seems to be getting along well with most of whom she’s spoken to tonight.”
“Dilgan’s always been a good talker,” Regulus said, somewhat distractedly. She had known that her other older sister was going to be there, and no amount of luxurious pampering at the hands of another could ease that stab of pain. Sensing her daughter’s ill ease, Saiph squeezed Regulus’s hand, the cool metal of her rings cutting into the flesh.
“Don’t worry about her - this is a celebration for you! You have exceeded all of our expectations and we’re all so very, very proud of you.” Tears threatened to spill over in the older woman’s eyes, before she quickly wiped away at them. “Tir-Anna sends her love; she wasn’t able to attend. The baby had a learning test today with the Teaching Council.”
Regulus absent-mindedly nodded, reaching for a glass of sparkling champagne from one of the serving robots. Taking a small sip, she looked around, the tanzanite earrings she wore catching the light. Khya had chosen a dark purple figure hugging dress for Regulus that left her arms bare. Although it was an incredibly simple gown, elegant in its design, the designer and fabric material alone meant that the cost ranged in the thousands. If the banquet had been publicized, it surely would have sent the designer’s name to the top of the “Most Wanted” list. The back of the dress scooped low, nearly revealing the top of Regulus’s rear, flattering the dip of her waist and the slow sway of her hips with the loose hanging fabric around the scoop. The front of the dress covered her up high to her throat, the design of curved vines cut carefully to showcase the pale aqua gem that Regulus had embedded in her throat. The one above her mons was covered, but showed faint traces through - enticing to any Aperion who was familiar to the gem classes, and looking like an odd bulge to the few Dyanmis Collective members in attendance.
Her dark brown curly hair had been swept off of her face and neck, pulled back in a bun similar to what she’d worn before, but this time, carefully studded with pale purple gems. The makeup was minimum, black eyeliner to bring out her gold eyes, and a soft neutral lip to allow the shape of her mouth to entice.
“How is the baby doing?” Regulus asked, before allowing herself a small laugh, “You know, I’m going to always call her ‘the baby’ like she doesn’t have a name!”
“You and everyone else! I don’t think the child knows she has a name other than, ‘the baby’.” Saiph reached for a passing plate of hors d’oeuvres, plucking free an ornate vegetable and seafood tart. Taking a small bite, her eyes closed in bliss before she offered it to her daughter, “Lysander’s really gone out of his way for this - I don’t think I’ve had better food at a gathering for scientists. Everything’s completely fresh and not replicated.”
“It couldn’t have been, if you were bringing some of your cakes,” and Regulus took a bite from the proffered tart, before quickly devouring it. “That is good!”
“Keep your manners, child - the Dyanmis Collective is on guard looking for any sort of sloppy behavior,” Saiph said with a sniff. “The few that I’ve seen eat and the few I’ve talked to are absolute boors. You know they have nothing of this finery in that horrid little mud Collective of theirs and they’re doing their best not to let their savagery show in the face of finery. Look at what they’re wearing,” she added, giving a dismissive look to two men talking. Unlike the Aperions present, who were dressed in the finest of clothing, the Dyanmis Collective members could be told by their monochromatic military clothing.
“Moth-eeerrrr,” Regulus stressed, downing the rest of her champagne. “Leave them be. The whole point of the project was to work together.” Looking somewhat abashed by her daughter correcting her, Saiph smiled, and gently took her daughter’s chin in her hand. “You are right, my beauty. Thank you,” and releasing Regulus’s chin, she began to stride purposefully forward. “Let’s get you with some of my cake, and then, we can make the introductions. Your partner from the Dyanmis Collective has been selected, and he is here tonight. Once you two have a chance to meet, Lysander and his counterpart from the Dyanmis Collective will fill in everyone here on the next steps of the Project.”
Regulus allowed herself to be lead to one of the several dining tables, spread with varying dishes and complex floral arrangements. In the center of the largest table, there was a detailed ice sculpture of a young woman surrounded by two swans with outstretched wings. Classy. Artistic enough to please the Aperions, no political statement to offend the Dyanmis Collective. Beneath the woman’s spread hands were the main courses - stuffed turkeys, grilled salmon - anything and everything that anyone, regardless of any sort of dietary restriction, could take part in and still sample at least ten different dishes. To the left were the dessert tables, armed with a dazzling array of cakes, puddings, cookies, ice cream. Saiph took a knife and sliced into a relatively “modest” cake, nearly translucent, and filtered through with rose petals and sprinkled with candied lavender blossoms. Setting the slice down on the immaculate rose print china, she handed it to Regulus.
“Here, my sweet, have this - I’ve got to get back to the Council, but I will meet with you shortly after the announcements,” and off she was, nearly vanishing into the crowd of people. Standing there with the plate in her right hand and a small silver fork in the left, Regulus took a small bite before leaning up against one of the massive window walls, just surveying all that was taking place in front of her. The glass was cool against her back, and soothing. Above the heads of the people, the sky deepened into the first hints of night.
With the sweet floral taste of the cake on her tongue, Regulus slowly savored each bite as she looked around. She knew several of the people there, and extra introductions would not really be necessary. Many, after their initial wave or spoken hellos, had given her room to speak with her mother and to move to the refreshment table. It was well known that Regulus was a teacher - and she would be given space to get her head in the “game” before anyone would start a conversation. While it may have appeared isolating, it was considered the height of courtesy, and something that she was thankful of. The intervention of her mother had helped as well - Saiph was always treated with a sense of awe. It had not been hard to find where her mother had landed in the crowd; her blue robes gave her away, as always, and she was surrounded by several high standing Aperions - and Dilgan was among them.
With a slight shudder, she focused on licking the remnants of the creamy cake away from her lips. As she was in the process of cutting herself another slice (as an adult, she was free to have her sweets before her dinner, thank you very much), loud applause startled her. Quickly cutting her slice free (and making it a much thicker piece than before), she flipped it onto her plate so she could focus on what was happening.
Towards the back of the main room, to the left of the singer and the small orchestra, the floor had morphed into a podium, and old Lysander himself was going up the steps. The applause continued for several minutes, before he held his hands up to still it. He was a brown-skinned man with hawkish features - a thin angular nose, thin lips, sharp eyes that curved up at the corners, and curly brown hair. He cleared his throat, and began to speak. To his credit, he had a soothing sonorous voice that didn’t match his personal appearance - so much the luckier for those that he had to address. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight fell on him.
“Greetings, those of the Aperion Commonwealth and those of the Dyanmis Collective. How is the food? My chefs are asking when they can finally sit down!” A light smattering of polite laughter from the Aperions. Regulus didn’t join them as she was enjoying her second piece of cake. Unlike her parents, she hadn’t inherited a tolerance for bad politician jokes. But the cake was divine and she’d spied some grilled fish in spicy coconut milk that had her name on it, as soon as she finished the cake.
“But please, make yourselves at home. At least for the next hour!” Another smattering of chuckles. “Yes, I am aware that this banquet will be brief; briefer than the likes of what I usually throw. But we are all here under unusual circumstances. Ten years ago, as you all can recall, we started the Consolido Project, hoping to combat the effects of the Watchers, the beings that have come from beyond our planet’s reach. And in those ten years, we have seen many follies, taken many risks, and had many triumphs. It gives me great pleasure to further introduce those who have helped us succeed - our two chosen pilots: Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak - Regulus, where are you? Ah, there you are!”
And a pillar of light focused on Regulus as she hastily finished chewing the bite of cake in her mouth, recovering to look all the lady that her mother had insisted on her being this evening. Deftly, she’d put the plate down on the table in front of her, freeing her hands to wave at the round of applause that greeted her. She’d concentrate now, allowing the gold to rise to her skin level, giving her an ethereal glow.
“Now, as I was saying - Regulus Deneb of the Al Simak, and Caelus Vel Baelsar of the Dyanmis Collective!”
Still under the warm glare of the spotlight, Regulus was aware that she could not crane her neck to see who this other pilot was. So, still standing, with her arms neatly by her side, she waited to see what this man would look like, if she’d walked past him before without so much as a second glance….
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