Young Rissa by F.M. Busby Read Free Book Online Page B

 
    Polite conversation. Financial manipulation, including the legal aspects. More ways of armed and unarmed combat than she had known to exist. Psychology, with emphasis on the art of bluffing: when, with whom, and how much. Acting — not on stage but in life — and disguise. Drinking and doping without loss of aim, impetus, or clarity of intention. Sex in many fashions. And — she was eager to learn of this — ways to free her mind of old bondages.  
    The training began slowly, a little at a time. It grew in scope until she did not think her mind, her body, her time could hold it all. But somehow, she managed.  
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    She also learned things outside her curriculum. She shared a room with Maria Faldane, a sultry swarthy girl a year older than Rissa, hailing from some part of Southwestern North America. Maria was several weeks ahead of Rissa in training — and a mine of gossip.  
    For instance: “Frieda Hulzein? She’s thirty, so Erika was forty at the birth. Oh, parthenogenetic, of course, but gene-replicated — and fertile, with luck.” At Rissa’s inquiring look, Maria explained. “Genereplicated means you get all your chromosomes, not just half like the oldtime haploid parthenoes. It’s secret, how they do it — but what I heard, they get the nucleus of one ovum to fertilize another one. If you get the proper halves together, it works.”  
    â€œAnd if you don’t?”  
    â€œThen it’s zerch — no result; try again.” Then; “Have you seen much of Frieda?”  
    Rissa shook her head. “No — just now and then. She doesn’t look as much like Erika as you’d expect, does she?” On Frieda, Erika’s hawklike features were exaggerated — almost coarse, Rissa thought. And she moved less gracefully.  
    â€œHuh! Doesn’t quite act like her, either. I tell you, Rissa, she scares me sometimes. You can’t tell how she’s likely to react. Does she scare you?”  
    Rissa thought. “No. In Welfare I never knew how the staff people would react. When I’m not sure, I don’t say much; that’s all.”  
    â€œYes.” Maria nodded. “Well — that one doesn’t have all her wheels on the ground, let me tell you.”  
    The conversation shifted, and soon it was time for sleep. But next day Maria was absent from afternoon training. Long after dinner, moving slowly and stiffly, she entered their room. Rissa said, “What’s the matter? What happened? Are you all right?”  
    Maria shook her head. “I don’t want to talk any more about — about anything.”  
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    In the realm of sex, Rissa learned that Gerard had known nothing of her body’s ways — and very little, she suspected, about his own. Skilled men and women taught her how to give pleasure, and — equally important in some circumstances, perhaps — how to withhold it, to deny another’s response. She discovered many enjoyments, but somehow — despite her new skills and those of her teachers — neither singly with another nor in varied groupings could she find the satisfaction she knew alone, late at night, in the way she had learned as a child. She knew that others had no such handicap but said nothing, feeling that the problem was hers to solve.  
    One day, resting, she lay beside two friends; even the incomplete fulfillment had been pleasant. She said, “Jorge — Cecily — am I progressing well in these things? How much more is there for me to learn?”  
    â€œVery little that’s new to you,” the woman said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Jorge?”  
    â€œYes. More practice, I think, on this and that. Oh, not this today. Rissa — in these matters you’re superb. But on Tuesday — remember?” “Yes, I was clumsy. And I forgot, until nearly too late, to — ”