Selene Incident

Her

Day

began, much as Vaughan's had. Adriana was awakened with a phone call from the Vice President in her room. He had to laugh to himself at that. Sage was noticeably

Latina

and very much what he had come to warmly think of as

Chica.

The VP, Harvard Ph.D.,

VERY CAUCASIAN

with a frosty tight One Per Cent asshole. She was a slender WASP of a woman in her late thirties, every millimeter of her was a ruthless political Tigress. She was the brains behind the President's Scotch drinking, golf club swinging flabby ass. It was her idea to not just elevate a STEM woman to the post of mission commander but to make the idiot in charge look good by choosing a minority STEM female candidate.

Dane could just imagine the frosty tone coming through Adriana's telephone as the Vice President wished her good luck with tight assed formality. Sage probably replied in kind, he told himself. She was sarcastic and sometimes took it too far but she had made it this far. To assuage the Russians, she was from the civilian astronaut pool with a strong aviation background. The Soviets had once again begun saber rattling about America's militant attitude toward them.

Well,

Vaughan told himself,

the Kremlin boys were probably locking themselves in their offices now, jerking off furiously.

He had to concede, Sage was an arousing eyeful of sexy woman. Two inches shy of six feet tall, Adriana was aware what men thought of her and how they fantasized about her cuca filled with their hard cock. She was a Boner triggering sight to behold, indeed. Her long legs, lightly bronzed led right up to an unforgettable ass and what had to be a lovely perfectly symmetrical pussy. He anticipated her outer labial lips were a pair of dusky colored beauties much like flawlessly formed Orange segments. He never felt conflicted over his want to experience the firm hold her pussy would undoubtedly wrap his cock in as he fucked her.

The Selene Lunar program was a return to the Moon, publicly declared to search for water. Vaughan knew there was a strong probability water, in the form of ice, was there. That being the case, NASA would start converting it to fuel for missions further away from Earth. He and Sage were the first astronauts to return to the Moon since Apollo and they would have a chance at finding the primary ingredient for fuel to further NASA's explorations. To him, it was a chance to be remembered as one of the

giants

that everyone always credited with something so important they would always be venerated. NASA was big on that sort of public self-effacement.

Shit,

Dane chuckled to himself,

rocket designing geeks have egos, too.

After her inspirational wake-up call, Sage had most likely allowed herself the indulgence of a lengthy, steamy hot shower. It would be a month before they returned to Earth and such creature comforts. How nice it would have been to join her for a friendly little shower fuck. He regretted NASA was so publicly stuck upon lying about any

Human

activity. Astronauts were flesh and blood like anyone else. The Rocket Geeks had gone so far as to even rename Sex, covertly and bury it in tons of paperwork. NASA renamed fucking,

ISIS.

Intimate Spontaneous Interaction Sequence. Vaughan always laughed at that. Fucking was just too human, apparently.

He talked to himself about it. They would be a man and a very attractive woman, confined to a tin can for five days heading for the Moon. There would be another twenty-five days living in a slightly larger tin can on the Moon while they doodled around in an electric cart, looking for ice. Finally, exhausted and stressed and who knew what else, they had another five-day ride back to Earth ending in a flaming dive back to terra-firma.

But we're not supposed to even think about fucking?

MedCom did spend a lot of time thinking about stress, exhaustion and what happened to people cooped up for long periods in confined spaces. Vaughan knew from the Astronaut grapevine that many female astronauts spending time on the ISS returned with a funny habit. They had to relearn that gravity was real. A common Flight Surgeons' test was to hand them a clipboard with forms they were to sign and hand back. Over two-thirds of the women absent-mindedly tried floating it back, only to watch it clatter to the floor. And that was not the most eye-brow rising effect of Space on the female astronaut cadre, Dane had discovered. Many of them were rather artistically gifted and months cooped up in a weightless tin can prompted their creative sketching juices to overflow. Cocks and naked male crew members were often the focus of their drawings. There seemed to be a fixation on sketching rather large male cocks, Vaughan had been told.

In response, NASA had decided to combat all the likely side-effects of Space with pharmaceuticals. A whole medicine cabinet had been concocted for astronauts and they were encouraged to use them to the point of addiction.

Go Fast-Go Longs

were chiefly a form of Speed that even he was using. There were

Sleepers,

to calm them down and put them to sleep. A few too many and they became a lethal form of escaping a fatal incident for an astronaut stranded in Space. They suppressed an already overtaxed astronaut's physiology and put them to sleep quickly and permanently. Dane had thrown his away. But his Flight Surgeon had reminded him it was always an option.

Adriana was issued something nicknamed

Pink and Purples.

She had sarcastically explained them as a form of Sarafem on steroids mixed with the Club Drug Molly. A few of these, she quipped, and she hardly cared about anything. These were a fast acting "Mood Brightening" drug to alleviate the stresses only women astronauts experienced. Sage had jokingly threatened her Flight Surgeon with the idea she might sell them to guys in night clubs. These were the best kind of Date Rape drug, she laughed. The women would be very conscious and very uncaring. These, Dane decided, were the best guarantee to get laid. MedCom kept it all secret. Anyone who squealed would never get a rocket ride anywhere except out NASA's back door. No velvet Golden Glove Good-bye. No cake and party. Just ejected into oblivion forever. If you fucked up at NASA, he discovered, it better kill you because the agency would never forgive you or forget what you did.

He had presented himself to his Flight Surgeon for a final pre-flight check-up. Sage, he knew, was subjected to a far more insensitive experience. She had to pee on a stick and prove she was not knocked up. Her monthly cycle was intensely scrutinized until, according to her own caustic wisecracks, she and her Flight Surgeon could tell you hourly her where she was in her twenty-eight-day cycle. She was issued a gizmo that she would slide into her pussy with the start of every new day to monitor her cervical mucus and overall reproductive system performance. Adriana despised the buzzing, vibrating device.

During their five-day ride to the Moon in their Selene Command Module, she would either weightlessly slide behind their seats to perform this act or float into the equally confined space of their Lunar landing vehicle to slip it between her legs. Dane had, so far, refrained from volunteering to assist her in conducting this activity. He decided Adriana might just disable his favorite dick permanently, if he did. Discretion being the prudent choice.

Their final MedCom checks kicked off the suiting up procedure. Sage and Vaughan had their own Suit Rooms. During the Shuttle program, these two rooms were divided by gender. The Selene program would be far fewer missions. The Suit Rooms were now the private sanctuaries of single astronauts now. Each one set the rules and traditions for their Suit Room, according to NASA tradition. Dane had instituted the tradition of smoking a Cuban cigar while drinking custom roast coffee. Music always filled Vaughan's Room while he underwent the process of suiting up.

Sage had mandated the practice of mitigating her PMS raging hormonal days with Gauloises Blondes as she endured her suiting up. For Adriana, it all began with her shedding her blue NASA flight suit and coating her nude body with special antibacterial gel she derisively nicknamed Blue Goop. In the cramped space of the Selene CM, prevention of unchecked bacterial growth was a special concern. In space, for yet unknown reasons, bacteria mutated and grew almost as fatally as monsters did in Hollywood's movies. Dane knew both the Chinese multi-man missions had returned to Earth heavily contaminated with mutant Space Bacteria. The last trio of Taikonauts had returned babbling semi-incoherently and hysterical.

The last thing they wanted to confront was the same problem. Maintaining a safe environment inside what was approximately the same size as a standard pick-up truck sized crew space was important. Dane and Adriana had learned the mutated bacteria inside the Chinese capsule was dangerously flammable. Exposure to even the tiniest spark would ignite it as if it were a patch of gasoline. Inside a pressurized capsule it would be the same as a pressure cooker. Any crew would be flash roasted in the blink of an eye.

Dane easily envisioned Adriana slathering her despised Blue Goop liberally all over herself. Her assisting Technician held out a myriad of wires and sensors she would need to stick to her body. In their Sims, she had learned to attach the jumble of sensors and wires quickly, with dexterous moves. In microgravity, Vaughan realized Sage would hardly have an easy time of it. He laughed at himself also. The BIS sensors, he predicted, would quickly become a tangled uncooperating mass resembling spaghetti and small rounded sensor discs to be sworn at. He feared the confined living space of the Selene CM and their Lunar Lander would only make matters even more frustrating. Dane was looking forward to watching Adriana' exasperated Chica personality come to the surface. He was looking forward to hearing a whole new litany of Latina STEM Chica cursing.

Vaughan empathized with Sage's discomfort when it came to being outfitted with all their BIS paraphernalia. He realized Sage would have no feminine mystique to cloak herself with. Her Flight Surgeon would know what she was experiencing as it happened. During their training, he frequently hoped to impress upon her he was her partner in all things and whatever she was dealing with, he was her compadre.

To help ease her pre-launch jitters, if Sage were having them, he directed one of his Suit Techs to deliver a Cuban cigar and a large insulated thermos mug of coffee to her Suit Room. He was smirking over the sudden thought NASA's PR photographer would snap pictures of Adriana in her pressure suit, reclining in her battered lounge chair, puffing a Cuban cigar like a boss, as the popular epithet went. She had smuggled a pack of Gauloises Blondes aboard the Selene CM in her Personal Care Kit along with two of his Cuban cigars. He was grinning like a fool, knowing these were with her

Womany necessaries,

as he dubbed them. Stowed with her tampons and Vag-Wand.

This is NASA's Public Relations Office with you as you watch coverage of America's return to the Moon, live. Adriana Sage is there on your screen beside Dane Vaughan, Mission Engineer and as you see they both are wearing their pressure suits but shortly, they'll be allowed to remove them and be much less hindered by them. NASA nomenclature has no listing of Space Suit per se...

Adriana waved into the camera between her boots for what seemed to her like the ten-thousandth time. NASA was big on PR, she chided herself. She had no real idea what the NASA Public Relations Office narrator was saying about her or Vaughan as she waved and smiled. Dane was so closely wedged alongside her body, every move he made caused their bodies to rub against each other. Repeatedly, she playfully shoved him away or swatted his arm.

"CapCom...Selene for Adriana," She smiled unconsciously with honest fondness at the voice in her com cap. "How about...since we have no real delta issues, you give us a quick Mission Commander's tour of Selene's Command Module for your STEM Fan Club watching. Copy?"

"Good idea!" Sage replied. Once again, her smile visibly became a fixed disguise. She thought it was a stupid idea. Outside their Capsule, the Earth's aurora was ablaze in brilliant green shimmering waves and she wanted to do nothing more than watch it and surreptitiously try to massage her aching butt cheeks. The Gs she was punished by during the climb to orbit had left an aching proof that Space was not a welcoming environment. Her ass was aching and she was becoming aware of a peculiar ache arising within her lower abdominal gut. It felt like she was on the verge of ovulation but she knew it was too early in her cycle for that. While she covertly rubbed her aching butt, Sage connived to massage her lower tummy, also.

"Greetings from orbit, everyone!" Adriana began her video tour. "Saludos desade la obita, todos!" Sage translated her words to Spanish but found herself having to think for a second as she did. Astronauts and Cosmonauts, particularly women, had reported their thinking was frequently slower and confusing even to them. They had jokingly referred to the phenomena as

The Stupids.

Her Flight Surgeon had informed her they may last a few hours or the duration of her mission. Each woman reacted in her own unique way. Adriana had been quietly informed her Flight Surgeon had been one of the women who had taken up the habit of sketching erect cocks during her private time aboard the ISS. Sage wanted to giggle anxiously as the thought developed in her mind.

It was best,

Adriana grinned conspiratorially,

not everyone knew her mind.

Take Vaughan beside her, Sage's mind entertained her as her mouth rambled through her video tour, he was the physical epitome of a California surfer boy. Vaughan's hair was sun golden naturally rebellious from wind and waves. He was a career Naval officer who never came off to her or anyone as a uniform wearing tight ass. Sage had worried about that when they first met. He could have been a true Pendejo. Instead, he was an easy on the eyes

increiblemente guapo.

Vaughan was her height but not overly muscular, in the way some of the military men she had met. It was as if Bhudda had mated with a Surfing Princess and fathered a laid back good-looking beach bum, Sage mused to herself. It was only natural her cuca was vying for her attention.

This must be the Stupids,

Sage decided with a giggle.