The Saffron Malformation (94 page)

             
“We’re good,” Quey replied and Benny hurried off.

             
It took a bit of time to unload the vehicles and get everyone set.  Ryla and the robots would share a room while everyone else had their own, though Leone and Amber were all ready planning how they could slip into the same bed late at night and explore the recently discovered physicality of their relationship.

             
As a whole the group was worn down from the two days of driving and took to sleep quickly.  The kids, however, had hormones that overpowered their need for sleep, and then there was Ryla, who didn’t need it for another four days.  She was sitting at the desk in her room reading on her device with Mechaganon and Bowswerbot behind her when she heard the giggling outside her door.  When she cracked her door she saw Leone and Amber, both had tried to sneak out into the others room and they’d met in the hall.  She watched them kiss and giggle and make little noises at the others touch for a moment before letting her presence be known.  Wide eyed and frozen, they looked at her.  She touched her finger to her lips in a silent, ‘shh,’ then shooed them into one of the rooms.  Embarrassed, they slunk though the door to Leone’s room and closed it behind.

             
Ryla closed her own door and turned back toward the room.  It was little more than a closet with a small bed and a desk.  She crossed to the chair and returned her attention to her sheet where she was reading about love.

             
As she read she grew more confused.  It seemed, near as she could gather, that it was universally accepted that love was a wonderful thing.  It was also expressed that sex was an act of love.  She was also aware that if Natalie had caught the kids meeting in the hall she would have sent them to their separate rooms and been angry.  That didn’t make sense to her.  If love was so good, and sex went with it—and even she was aware of how good that could be—then why keep it from anyone?

             
‘People are strange,’ she decided as she returned to her text.

             
She picked up where she’d left off and found a fiction story about lovers separated by a great distance, a series of brutal circumstances, and the passage of time.  When finally they came together she felt glad for them and noticed something else had happened to her, a bit of desire had formed.  She imagined Quey, his thin frame and kindly features and she couldn’t help but think he wasn’t quite right.  The man in the story had been bigger and stronger, and she realized the sailor, Benny, would have fit better and she had the urge to go find him.

             
Before she knew it she was wondering the halls of the ship, but it was late at night and most of the crew was asleep in their quarters, and none of the doors were marked.  Only three crewmembers were awake at present, gathered in the bridge of the ship, playing cards while they kept tabs on things.  She knew which of the three she thought she’d like to try and he was different from Quey in nearly every way.  He had bulging muscles, and a groomed yellow beard across his broad face.

             
The cold metal of the stairs bit at her feet as she ascended the small flight of them to the bridge, and stood watching the three for a moment before she was spotted.

             
“Woah,” one of the other two said, as she watched the blonde man who reminded her most of the lover in her story.  The other two sailors in the room didn’t interest her at all.  One had too much of a belly and too little hair, while the other was young, but scrawny and had a face that was displeasing to her eyes.  His nose was too big for his face and crooked a bit, and she didn’t like his eyes.  They were beady and leering.

             
“Something wrong?” the ugly one asked.  His voice matched his face.

             
Ryla shook her head.  She was staring at the man she liked.  “You really shouldn’t be up here,” he said to her and she looked down at the floor.  She couldn’t figure out how to lure him away from the others.

             
One of them made a joke that was probably crude, but she didn’t get it, and the blonde one snapped at them.  “’Nough of that,” he told them.  Then he crossed to her and looked down at her.  She liked his eyes, bright blue, and they matched the smile he gave her.  “You lost?” he asked.

             
She wasn’t but she nodded.  In most of the stories she read about love the woman was often helpless, and so she did her best to seem that way.

             
“It’s a big ship.  I’ll walk you back.”

             
She smiled and nodded.

             
The other two shared another joke and he silenced them with a look.  Then he took to leading her back to her room.  They strolled silently until they were below deck, then he said, “Don’t say much do you.”

             
“No,” she answered.  “I’m scared if I talk I’ll mess up because I’m not good at it, and I don’t want to make a mistake and screw this up.”

             
He looked over at her and said, “What do you mean?  Screw what up?”

             
She lunged at him and pressed her lips and her body against him.  Her hands found his arms, bulging out of his short sleeves, then moved across his chest, firm under the thin fabric of his shirt, and she liked it.

             
After a moment he separated from her and looked at her.  “I don’t know,” he said, trying to decide.  “I don’t want any trouble, you know, if this is about getting back at a boyfriend or something.”

             
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she told him.  She touched the muscles in his chest and then slid her hand down to the ones in his belly, flat and tight.  “You have a room?” she asked.

             
He nodded, it was his turn to not know what to say.  “But I don’t know.”

             
“What’s to know?” she asked.  She looked at him, stood close and said, “I feel really good.”  His heart was racing, she could tell.  She rubbed the groin of his slacks and felt his size.  He touched her, resting his strong hands on her waist.  She felt the power of them and liked it.  They kissed and then he looked around.

             
“This way,” he told her.

             
She didn’t move at first and he looked at her.  “You’ll be nice,” she inquired.

             
His brow furrowed as he wondered what had happened to her that made her feel she needed to ask.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I’ll be sweet to you.”  He ran a hand over her hair.

             
This time when he moved she followed.

             
When she built boyfriend she had calculated the average size of a human penis and used that as a model.  When she had her first encounter with Quey she questioned the research data she’d found on the subject because boyfriend was smaller, though not by a terrible amount.  This man, whose name she hadn’t bothered to ask, was much larger, she saw as he stood naked.  She was sitting on the bed, her dress draped over a chair across the room, and she found she couldn’t stop touching him.  His body was thick and hard.  His hands were rough from years of hard work, but when he touched her he was gentle.  In the strict technical sense, Ryla knew what he was doing when he knelt beside the bed and moved his face between her thighs but she didn’t know what to expect.  Then she felt his tongue and was amazed by it.  She fell back against the bed and her breath caught in her throat.

             
Usually he told girls to tell him when they were close, but with this one he didn’t need to.  Most of the time he brought them to the edge then entered them for the end, but she insisted he keep going and so he did.  Partly because she wasn’t like most of the women he’d been with, in that she didn’t really taste like much, and partly because there was something about this chick that made him feel generous.

             
As she lay on the bed, shivering slightly from the soft orgasm his tounge gave her, he stood and looked at her.  She really did have a great body.  Strong legs, a tight round ass, full hips, a slender waist, and perky breasts.  He reached out and massaged them and she sat up.  She ran her hands over his arms and shoulders.

             
“Ready?” he asked as he stepped between her thighs.

             
She scanned his body and nodded.  As he squeezed inside her she felt a gentle rush of excitement.  ‘This is going to be great,’ she thought.

             
“Fucking shit, you weren’t lying,” he said.  Then clarified, “You do feel good.”

             
She lay back and let him settle on top of her and work himself back and forth, in and out.  She thought he’d bring her to another climax, but after trying to assist that end with several adjustments of her hips, she realized it wasn’t going to happen.  It was nice, and it felt nice, but not nice enough.  Slightly disappointed by his inability to bring her there through intercourse she relaxed underneath him and tried to enjoy him as best she could.  She liked his body, strong and pressing against her.  She ran her hands over his muscles and felt his breath on her neck.  He didn’t look at her, and when he did it was just to watch her breasts bounce as he thrust in a way that was a little uncomfortable for her.  He gripped them with both hands and buried his face in them, kissing her nipples and running the prickly hairs of his beard over the skin.  She was tired of him so she pushed him off and rolled over onto her hands and knees because she’d read this was the position most likely to make a man climax faster.  His hands slid up around her ass, over her hips and torso and settled on her breasts as he entered her.  When he did she squeezed and his breath stuttered and he needed to finish.  He was thrusting deep and it hurt a little, which made her squeeze harder until a short time later when he pushed deep and stayed there.

             
After, he collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard, and now he was looking at her in that way Quey did during.  She liked that, but this was different.  There was something about it that bothered her, and then she realized it was that he would want this again and she was done with him.

             
Her face drooped.  Jacob had been right.  This is what he’d meant when he said she’d get bored, that she wouldn’t be able to change them.  The story had given her an urge and she couldn’t find Benny so she took the next best thing.  Now she was over it.  Besides, this one wasn’t very good at it.

             
She pointed to a door in the far wall and asked, “Bathroom?”

             
He nodded and she went to it.  She cleaned herself thoroughly, as she didn’t want him lingering with her in any way.  When she was through she went into the room again and collected her dress.  As she was slipping it on he asked, “Leaving so soon?”

             
“Yes,” she replied bluntly.

             
“From what I hear you’ll be on board for a couple days, so if you want,” he trailed off letting her fill in the rest on her own.  When she didn’t he added, “Because, I don’t know about you, but I thought that was really good.”

             
“It was fine,” she answered.  “But if you’re asking if we’re going to have sex again, then no.”

             
He looked stung as he said, “Oh.”

             
She finished pulling herself into her dress and crossed to the door where she paused.  “Thank you though,” she said.

             
He saluted her from the bed and said, “No problem.”

             
Then she left and started back for her room, but found herself wandering the ship for what must have been hours.  She was thinking, trying to figure things out.  When day was about to break over the ocean she finally found herself in the section of the ship where her room was.  Only she didn’t go to her room.  She went into the one next to it.

             
Quey was snoring softly as she pushed his door opened and slunk inside, silent in the dark.  She stood watching him, long on the bed and slender in the shadows.  She was so confused.  The sailor had been a disappointment and the little satisfaction he’d given her had worn off hours ago, and actually seemed to intensify her desire for a good experience.  She looked down at Quey, sleeping heavily on the small bed.  He was always good.

             
She sighed and turned away when Quey stirred.  She crossed to the bed and looked down at him lying on his back. She felt desire so strongly she bounced on the balls of her feet as she tried to decide whether or not this was wrong.

             
For a moment she regretted leaving boyfriend behind, because he was a robot and with robots she always knew.  They were so much simpler to deal with.

             
She touched his arm and though it wasn’t as strong as the sailors had been, she liked it anyway.  He rolled onto his side and touched her hand with his and she liked that better too.  When they touched her it was just right.  Before she could think anymore she leaned down and kissed his lips lightly.