Glasshouse by Charles Stross Read Free Book Online Page B

carefully, “I have a therapy appointment in a kilosec. Maybe some other time.”
    â€œGoodbye then,” says Linn. Vhora is working one-handed at the laces on the back of her gown as Kay and I leave.
    â€œToo bad about the therapy session,” I say, once we’re through the first gate and round the first corner. I hold my hand out, and she takes it. “I was hoping we could spend some time together.”
    Kay squeezes my hand. “What kind of therapy did you have in mind?”
    â€œYou mean you—”
    â€œHush, silly. Of course I lied! Did you think I was going to share you with ponygirl back there?”
    I turn and back her against the wall, and suddenly she’s all around me, greedy hands grasping and stroking and squeezing. Her mouth tastes of Kay and lunchtime spices, indescribable and exotic.
    SOMETIME later we surface in a privacy bower in a restery neither of us knows, somewhere in the Green Maze, sweaty and naked and tired and elated. I’ve had sex with Kay in her private naked orthobody before, but this is different. She can do things with those four cunning hands that make me scream with delightful anticipation, holding me on the razor-fine edge of orgasm for a timeless eternity. I wish I could do something back to her, something similar. Maybe one day I will, if I get it together to go xenomorphic myself. I don’t usually regret being tied to my self-image so strongly, but Kay’s giving my inhibitions a good stretch.
    Afterward, she rolls away from me, and I cradle her in my arms.
    â€œThey don’t take couples,” she says quietly.
    â€œYou said I need to go.”
    â€œThat’s true.” She sounds tranquil about it. I don’t know, I haven’t asked—but is this simply an extended fling?
    â€œI don’t have to go.”
    â€œIf you’re in danger, I’d rather you were safe.”
    I cup her breast, one-handed. She shivers.
    â€œI’d rather I was safe, too. But with you.”
    â€œWe’d be in different bodies,” she murmurs. “We probably wouldn’t even recognize each other.”
    â€œWould you be all right like that?” I ask anxiously. “If you’re shy—”
    â€œI can pretend it’s an extended disguise. I’ve done it before, remember.”
    Oh. “We’d have to lie.” It slips out without my willing it.
    â€œWhy?” she asks. “We aren’t actually a couple”—my heart skips a beat—“not yet.”
    â€œAre you mono? Or poly?” I ask.
    â€œBoth.” Her nipple tightens under my fingertips. “It’s easier to handle the emotional balance with just one partner, though.” I feel her back tense slightly. “Do you get jealous?”
    I have to think hard about it. “I don’t think so, but I’m not certain. I don’t remember enough to be sure. But . . . back there, when Linn invited us. I don’t think I felt jealous then. As long as we’re friends.”
    â€œGood.” She begins to roll over toward me, then pushes herself up on all her arms and climbs across me until she’s on top, hanging there like the spider goddess of earthly delights. “Then we won’t be lying, exactly, if we tell them we aren’t in a long-term relationship. Promise you’ll look me up when we get inside? Or afterward, if you can’t find me? Or if you end up not going inside after all?”
    I stare into her eyes from a distance of millimeters, seeing hunger and desire and insecurity mirrored there. “Yes,” I say, “I promise.”
    The spider goddess approves; she descends to reward her mate, holding him spread-eagled with four arms as she goes to work on him with her mouthparts and remaining limbs. While for his part, the male wonders if this is going to be their last time together.
    AS I make my solitary way home from our assignation, someone tries to