Free-Falling

“What was it like,” Mike said to Laura, “living where the stars were only up as opposed to all around?”

They drifted at the outer ring, pressed against the cold filament-heated windows, staring out at the stars. Laura had once lived on a planet. Michael never had. The idea of stars being present only when he looked up was alien to him. The idea of up was alien to him.

Laura shrugged. She had known him for two years. Her faint reflection in the duraplast window gave her the image of a pretty girl—light brown hair that trailed behind her in a quiet streamer, breasts perky as all breasts were in weightless space, large dark eyes, like the dark blue of the sky as the last vestiges of sunlight finally died. Slim shoulders, narrow hips, a face still slightly rounded, not yet smooth planes and gentle curves. Nothing special, she thought. “I dunno. It was different. I can’t describe it.” She’d tried to, many times over the past two years; she couldn’t. “You look away from the ground and there are stars. And sometimes, in the daytime, you can’t see them at all, because the sky is purple.”

“Purple,” Mike mused. He could never get over that. He was taller than she; weightlessness lent itself to stretching and growing. He kept his honey-colored hair cropped short. He had beautiful gray eyes, always alight with curiosity and excitement. “Why that color? It’s said the sky on old Earth was blue.”

Laura shrugged again. “I don’t know. The gaseous composition of the atmosphere, I guess.”

“Did it smell differently,” he asked. If she answered, he wouldn’t be able to understand. The air of Alidar IV, where she had lived for fourteen, years had had a damp smell, perfumed with the faint sweetness of plant life. The air on the Sentinel station, where she lived now, was cold and biting, sterile and lifeless. It was a scientific station, gathering the raw materials needed to run the manufacturing plants on Selora IX. The only place with plant life was the hydroponics bay, a cold unglamorous place where the plants looked lifeless.

“Yes,” she said shortly. She liked talking about her home planet, and he liked listening, but he never understood. He couldn’t understand. He had lived on a space station all his life. Gravity was just a scientific principle to him. She stared out at the shining stars, cold and lifeless. Pinpricks of blazing light in the darkness, trying to burn her away. The stars that were her home, now.

“Laura…” Mike said, and his voice was pained. She smiled to herself. Mike was such a nice guy. She knew he hated hurting her. It was nice sometimes to have someone worried about her. Not that she wanted him to go into conniptions every time she did something dangerous, but…

“I’m sorry,” she said, and at least he understood. She got upset at the strangest things. She knew she did. Her mother said she was odd, she ought to get prescribed for neuropharms to neutralize her behavior. No one liked Laura very much; she was volatile and temperamental, too much so. No one liked Laura… Except Mike, who understood actually a lot, unless you started talking to him about planets.

“I guess I ought to steer clear of planets, then,” he said, brushing her shoulder with his hand. He wasn’t supposed to do that; cohabitation between members of the opposite sex was regulated on Sentinel station. It was hard to find time alone. She liked being alone with him. The station was cold and impersonal; a tritanium and duraplast protecting them against the endless loneliness of space. Corridors of impersonal plastic; scientists, like her parents, rushing from lab to control center and back again. The only life on the entire station was Mike.

“No,” she said, “if you’ve still got questions, I’ll answer them.”

She felt his surprise against her back. “Oh. Well… I don’t know.”

She smiled. He didn’t know a lot, sometimes.

“Uhm…” said Mike. “What’s the biggest difference between gravity and weightlessness?”

She had to think for a minute. This was not a question he had asked her before. He always made her think; bless him. “The nature,” she said after a while. She smiled sadly. “There’s no plant life here, no animals, no wind, no clouds. No rain.” She shook her head. “It’s so sterile.” Her gaze went back to the stars.

She became aware, gradually, of Mike pressed up against her. The Sentinel station spun very slowly, but it was enough to create an outward pseudo-gravity; which was why ‘down’ on the station was considered to be in the direction of the outer ring. At the outer ring itself the outward force was strongest, and if a person wasn’t careful they’d find themselves slowly mashing into the wall—or whoever was between the wall and them.

Which had happened to Mike when he moved to float behind her.

She liked the feeling of him against her back, his breath on her neck. He had always been a great deal more than a friend to her—she didn’t have normal friends, she either had total strangers or people who were very, very close to her—and she liked being near him, but she wasn’t sure if this was as near as she wanted to be.

The first sex she had ever had had been with a complete jerkoff named Trent Adams who had paid absolutely no attention to her. He’d tweaked her breasts a couple of times and then just shoved his cock into her and pumped. When she’d felt his cum inside her she’d been repulsed; how could this asshole treat her like this? Fuck her and leave his seed in her and then leave without even a kiss. Later she had learned to masturbate and had her first orgasm.

“Actually,” she said suddenly, impulsively, “maybe orgasm instead.”

She felt him jump behind her; it was possible to jump when you were weightless. She realized suddenly that his body was pressed into hers, firm and warm, and it was very erotic. She enjoyed teasing people with her sexuality sometimes, but she’d never actually considered fucking someone. Not on the station, at least. But suddenly, the proposition of fucking Mike seemed pretty nice.

“I don’t know,” she continued. “I’ve never had one up here. Not yet. But I imagine fucking is different in space.” She knew it had to be.

She could feel his hard-on against her ass, pushing, solid. She wondered what his face must look like, made herself look out into space instead. “What do you think?”

He spoke in a strangled voice. He was sweet; she wondered if she deserved him. “I don’t know, Laura. I’ve never been on a planet before.”

She smiled. “I know that, silly.” She fidgeted a bit beneath his body and Mike jerked backwards, giving her time to slip out. She pushed herself down the corridor, towards the center of the station.

“Where are you going,” he said.

She fabricated an excuse. “I’ve not yet eaten,” she said. “I want to get something to eat.” She wondered if he’d pick up the double entendre but didn’t really care if he didn’t. She was preoccupied.

Mike watched her slim form drift down the corridor and tried to deflate his erection. Over two years he’d never known Laura to be so directly sexual, to talk like that. It turned him on. She turned him on. He was a physical creature; he enjoyed being close to people, touching them, even casually. Laura never seemed to mind, despite the strict regulations that, it seemed, were designed entirely to thwart him. He remembered her fine, brown hair brushing his cheek, her firm ass against his cock. He wondered how large her breasts were; bra was unnecessary in space, or he could’ve just asked the computer. Computer terminals knew everything. He already knew her exact height, weight, clothing size, but terminals had to be fed information before they could regurgitate it out again.

In a stupor he pushed himself off the wall, heading back to his own room. He needed to be alone, because Laura had him hopelessly turned on and he would have to jack off to get rid of his hard-on. The corridors were thankfully deserted; his penis stuck out and made a tent of his pants. Anyone would know.

In his room he strapped himself into his bed, which was on the ‘down’ wall, lubed himself up and went at his cock quickly. A funny thing: there was very little pleasure in his masturbation. He hoped it wouldn’t be the case when he actually had sex. As he stroked his cock, dull red and swollen, he imagined Laura, smiling her bewitching smile; laughing, which she rarely did; undressing herself in front of her, slowly, which she would probably never ever do. He imagined fucking her, banging her, bringing her to orgasm, and his cum burst free of his cock and floated free, drifting slowly towards the opposite wall. He was breathing hard, panting, almost. Laura’s moans echoed in his imagination.

The door opened with a mechanical whoosh. Laura stepped in. Her gaze went first to the whitish sticky gobs that sailed serenely out the door into the main living quarters beyond, and then to his cock in his hand. It took her a scant second to understand what had happened.

Mike made an ineffectual effort to hide his genitals in his pants, which had pooled around his ankles. He felt his face burning, but Laura just drifted into the room. “Who were you thinking of,” she said, “when you did that.”

Mike blushed even more. “You,” he said.

“Really,” she replied.

Mike nodded. He moved to unstrap himself from the bed, but Laura said: “No, let me do that.” She opened the fastener for him but left the others closed. He wondered what she was going to do next.

The answer came when she took his pants and stripped them off. She got his socks as well—shoes were unnecessary on a space station—and then his underwear. She tossed the pile away.

“Laura! What are you—“

She covered his mouth with her hand. “Hush, lover, and let me work.” She took her hand away and worked on finding a way to get his shirt off without releasing him from the bed.

“Laura,” he said quietly, knowing that she wasn’t going to be dissuaded and he’d better figure out what she wanted, and sure stripping off his clothes wasn’t it, “what were you coming in here for?”

She stopped her work on his shirt and looked up at him. Her beautiful dark blue eyes were serious. “I tried it,” she said, “playing with myself. I didn’t actually come, but I knew that sex was going to be a lot different in space. And so I stopped, because if I’m going to go any farther I want you to be the one who takes me there. You are going to make me come, Michael, and then I will decide for you whether it’s the lack of plants or orgasm that’s the most different about being in space.”

Mike felt panicked. Him? Give her an orgasm? “Laura, I… I’ve never done this before, you know. I don’t know the first thing about making you come.”

“You’re still a virgin,” she asked him. He nodded. “Well, you’ll figure it out. And if not, I’ve got other things that will help. You’re the first person I’ve ever fucked that I’ve loved, at least, and that ought to make up the difference. Now help me with this shirt.”

“No!” he cried. He was in over his head, he was sure of it. He wanted time to think. This was going way too fast. Love? Her? Love him?

“Fine,” Laura said, and went to his desk. She came back bearing a laser knife.

Mike squawked. “Are you trying to kill me?” he cried.

“I’m going to have you naked,” she said. “If you won’t help me we’ll do this the hard way.”

Mike considered arguing and then reconsidered. He settled for, “Be careful.”

She activated the knife; a green-blue line grew out of the handle, six inches long. With the care of a surgeon she cut the sleeves off of his sweater and pulled them off. Then she went to his chest. Mike saw she was going to cut it and then pull it off him.

Her eyes flicked to his. He understood suddenly how afraid she was. Did she really love him?

This is the oddest way I’ve ever seen to show it.

“Do it,” he said. With his free hand he held her shoulder.

Slowly she lowered the green tip of the knife until it was through his shirt. He felt a pinprick of burning warmth against his collarbone, a pinprick that slowly started moving down his chest until, after excruciating moments as he watched her face, it grazed his matted pubic hair. She turned the knife off and tossed it away, and then yanked his sweater off and let it drift.

He stared at her and she stared back. Her face was pale but her eyes were alight with hidden excitement. He was exhilarated; the cutting had fired him more than he had imagined possible. Her hesitant care, the worry in her eyes… His hard-on was raging.

He said, breathing heavily, “You want to fuck me?”

She said: “Yes. More than anything.”

“Is…” He frowned. What was he doing? Why was he even

thinking

what he was thinking? He was about to get laid! “Is this

wise

? What if… I mean… Laura, we’re… Babies aren’t allowed on the station!”

She looked him straight in the eye, and then rolled back a sleeve to show a pharmaceutical patch taped to her left arm. It was a contraceptive.

“Mike,” she said, “I’ve been thinking. A lot. We drift at our window and we talk. It’s cold there. But when we’re not together, I’m much colder by far. Only being around you makes me happy, makes me feel complete. Whenever I disturb you, make you feel sad or angry or…” She sighed. “I want to kill myself for doing that. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

Mike stared at her, trying to figure out if he felt the same thing. He remembered all the times he’d hurt her, by probing too deeply into the places of her soul that hurt her—anything having to do with her life on a planet, which was basically everything—and how he’d wanted to fall on his knees and make it right. She had told him about Trent Adams and he’d wanted to kill the man.

“It’s love,” he said.

“Then you’ll fuck me,” she said.

He said: “Yes. And I’ll make you come, if I can. I love you, Laura.”

“Then you can do it,” she said, smiling. She twiddled with his pubic hair, idly, and then let her hand drift upwards to his erect cock and its head twitching to his heartbeat. She caressed the head idly, letting her fingers wander across its smooth surface, and then went lower, feeling and caressing his shaft and balls. She seemed rapt. “I’ve never really seen one of these before,” she said. “Stupid Trent wouldn’t let me see his. I don’t think it was very big, anyway, which is probably why…” She trailed off. The leftover lubrication from his masturbation made its surface slick and smooth. As he recalled, the lube was tasteless, which was good because she took his penis into her mouth, carefully, tasting, exploring. Mike moaned.

Laura smiled and began to use her tongue to explore around his cock. She rubbed around the bottom and the faint seams of joined skin—all men were circumcised at birth—and then brought it around so that the underside of her tongue met the head of his cock. He groaned in ecstasy. Only in his dreams had she ever done this to him, never in reality; never had he thought it would be this good. He wasn’t having any stimulation problems now.

“Wait, Laura—“ he said. He was coming to the edge far too quickly; he’d never manage to give her an orgasm if he himself came too soon. He let himself out of the bed and said, “I want a turn at you.”

She smiled as he came to her. They kissed, the first time. She was beautiful in his arms; she smiled.

Mike turned her around and slowly unzipped her jumpsuit. She felt the zipper slide down her back, leaving bitty sparks of electricity as it brushed her skin. She felt her breasts come free, the cold air on her shoulder blades. He eased the sleeves off of her arms and then pulled the entire garment down. She felt his hands brush her hips, her thighs, her calves. And then she was free, naked except for a no-nonsense pair of white panties.

He took her hips and spun her around, slowly. She felt the tingles of his gaze roaming her body hungrily. She felt turned on, hungry in anticipation of his lips, his hands, his cock, and he had barely touched her. She noticed him staring at her panties, which were bulging slightly and were definitely wet.

She smiled and blushed self-consciously. “I told you I was playing with myself before.”

He seemed startled. “Oh, yes, that’s right. You did.”

“Well, here’s proof.” She took off her panties. She had begun trimming her pubic hair ever since she started masturbating; it was darker than her hair, having never been much exposed to sunlight. She passed the panties to Mike.

He accepted them, felt their texture. He brought the crotch of her panties to his nose, without taking his eyes off of her, and breathed in deeply.

She felt her face coloring.

“I dream about that smell,” he said softly.

She shivered. The air was cold, but the fire between them warmed her. She thought she must be delirious. What was she doing, floating here naked in front of him? Well, he was naked too, but still…

She tried to make her voice light. “Did you?”

He nodded. “A hundred times. Oh, Laura, how I have wanted you…” His eyes were a strange mixture: tenderness, worry, happiness, an incongruous animal lust.

“You’ve got me,” was all she could say in return.

He smiled and they moved back into each others’ embrace. They kissed, trading breaths and souls, feeling each other, testing each other. But Mike soon began to move down her body, trailing kisses down her white flesh until he touched the top of her pyramid of pubic hair. She wondered why he had skipped her breasts; but then she didn’t derive much pleasure from twiddling with them anyway.

Here was a difference, she reflected: she would have to lie down somewhere for him to go down on her. Here, they just floated in the middle of the room. The sense of weightlessness was strangely vertigo-inducing, but at the same time ever so enticing… Reflexively she began to rub and squeeze her nipples.

Mike stopped. She felt his breath, warm and gentle, against her vulva. “Um…” he said, obviously embarrassed, “what do I do now?”

She smiled and stroked the back of his head with one hand. With the other she held open her fleshy outer lips, revealing the secrets within. She had examined herself in a mirror once, and knew exactly what he was seeing—a cleft along the underside of her body, pink and wet, steamy and aromatic. She brushed her clitoris gently with a finger and felt herself shudder. “Here,” she said. “That’s where it feels best. The rest of it is good, too, but that’s the best.”

Carefully he poked it.

“Owch,” said Laura. “Be careful, it’s sensitive. Mine is, at least; I don’t know about other peoples’. You have to be careful. Brush it lightly, or maybe breathe on it, but don’t touch it too hard. And don’t forget the rest of me.” She giggled nervously. “I’ve got other things down there than my clit.”

He looked up at her and then hugged her, his face against her firm stomach. “I love you, Laura,” he whispered. “You’re always so… Beautiful.”

She was nervous. He was too. They were fine.

He breathed on her vulva again, and she moaned. She had never imagined something as simple as his breath could do such a thing to her. She knew she was getting wetter, her lips becoming darker, engorged. Thinking about how her pussy must look to him made her even more aroused. And through it all he just breathed, inhaling and exhaling the deep sweet scent of her pussy.

Surprise: he used his tongue straight off. One of his hands went to her right buttock and the small of her back; the other kept her open. She spread her legs to accommodate him. He stroked her inner lips, thin and petal-soft, with his marvelous tongue, and felt around, searching the inner crevices and sensitive places she had never before known were there. He paid some attention to her outer lips, for which she was thankful; the sensations were overwhelming, especially without a sense of grounding, and the cessation allowed her time to collect herself.

But not enough. Soon he was back at her pussy, this time stroking the area around her clitoris. He swirled around it, ravished her back and forth, left and right, up and down. He tortured her, dancing around her clit, ever closer, but never actually touching it. Somehow he knew just when to dance back from her clit. She moaned and gasped as he pleasured her. “Mike… Mike… How…”