Chapter Four
Desonekarar

Returning home still in no enviable mood, Matt is neither surprised nor displeased when the first person he encounters in his own second story hallway turns out to be his neighbor Cathy Frankel just exiting her apartment opposite the elevator. The delightfully attractive Tenctonese woman lives across and down the hall from him and her presence, or even just the sight of her, is enough to blast Matt out of any possible funk.

Actually, with the exception of George's wife Susan – and this he'll admit to no living person – Cathy is the only Newcomer woman he does find particularly beautiful. He's seen many that can be called beautiful, but only two he'd consider exceptional and this doesn't always come just from physical looks.

He has a friendship-relationship with her that can be likened to bobbing up and down in opposite peaks and valleys on fifteen foot waves on the ocean in two rowboats ... and he's 100 percent certain she knows exactly what she's doing to his hormones, nerves and, such as it is when he's around her, his brain.

What does surprise Matt this evening isn't seeing the woman dressed in her usual elegant silky attire – today it's a swoosh of a blue and green blouse that seems to flow down her body and carry the scheme to her mid-length skirt, but suddenly he doesn't mind the heat wave.

No, it's because for one not into personal adornment, this time she wears about her head, as another woman would wear a hair band, a thin silver band so deeply incised with Tenctonese script that it sparkles even in the inadequate hall light. "Hi, Matt," she exclaims, glowing with even more than her usual good spirits and he realizes it's been only one second since they'd seen each other. She shuts her door without turning from him.

x

"Hi Cath. How was your day?" 'Okay, so it's a stupid line,' he thinks, 'but who can think with–?'

"Marvelous!" she exclaims with a broad smile. She comes to him and gives him a brief Tenctonese greeting, touching the side of her head, near her temple, to his; but when she draws back he isn't so dense, seeing the way she subtly moves her head so that the band glistens in his eyes, that he misses that she really wants him to ask about it.

The slim silver band seems to accent her multitude of Podniki spots, which in her case are so densely clustered as to almost give the illusion of very short hair. Few people are aware, or take the effort to notice, that one can read these markings, passed along male and female lines, to determine family and other distinguishing facts, such as Albert's denoting his status as a Binnaum. He's long ago noted that Emily, and later Vessna, take after Susan while Buck is more patterned after George. To date, he's never met a newcomer with Cathy's pattern – and he's sure they've looked among the Newcomers, for to find similar patterning is to find family, however distantly related.

"A present?"

"Uh, huh." She says it with such a dazzling smile that, for a moment, he can't resist a twinge of jealousy. It's irrational, he admits; it looks way out of his range, but if anybody should be giving her a gift like that…. "To myself."

Caught flatfooted, knowing his face must, as usual, be far too easy to read, the best he can manage is "Huh?"

"Today's my Prinyante."

x

Not wanting to repeat himself, he forces himself to say nothing. Her smile isn't without its element of teasing.

"Naming Day. You see, we're born into slavery, so there's little use in celebrating birthdays like humans do. But our names are the first things given us by our parents, and they are often given in defiance of our slave status. The Kleezantsun give us names at birth, but I never use that."

He's never been able to come close to duplicating that curious popping sound at the end of the word, but only Cathy seems able to make so ominous a word's ending sound 'cute'; and that's something he would never dare say aloud. "I only know you by Jelana, but I'm used to Cathy." Somehow, in her effervescence, he can see a touch of apprehension in her hazel eyes. "I like Jelana." Immediately she brightens again. "You know, I think I like it more than 'Cathy'." He hadn't thought it possible for her spirits to pick up any more than they already were, and he has to admit that it makes him feel better as well. "You know, Earth names generally mean something. Does yours?"

"Uh, huh," she assures him with a dazzling smile.

"What?"

She draws closer, very much closer, her hands move to his shoulders, her lips get closer, closer, they're a hair apart - Tenctonese don't kiss but Matt 's heart start to race in anticipation. "Someday," she whispers, her orange scented breath fluttering on his lips, "I might tell you."

She withdraws and he's taken aback, but this time he doesn't mind. He'll let her have her secret … and play the game out later.

"Well, I don't know what Tenctonese custom is, but I think this occasion calls for a drink. Would you join me?"

"I'd love to." She tries to keep her feelings from showing too clearly in her manner. A chase game is no fun if the prize is scared off.

x

Not for the first time, as they walk the extra few steps to Matt's door on their right, he has the feeling that he's treading uncertain ground with the complexities of Tenctonese custom and society. He always felt there's one more surprise waiting for him, but he doesn't like surprises; too much chance to fail – or is it to succeed gloriously? But he feels very often with Cathy – Jelana – like he's walking blindfolded through a garden where the flowers hide land mines, and to get too close to the flowers is to….

He opens the door to a mildly embarrassing surprise of his own. The television set on the other side of the kitchen/living room partition, is on, the local news program just concluding its announcements to the vacant room. He remembers watching it this morning at breakfast and then had absentmindedly departed for work. Trying to cover his embarrassment by pretending there's nothing unusual about it, he closes the door and, under the guise of meaningless small talk, enters the kitchen immediately to his left. "I've got a gallon of milk in." Both of them ignore the television and miss its warning announcement of a test of the country's Emergency Broadcast System.

"A gallon?" she laughs; to Matt a delightful sound. "You know, you have more milk than any other human I've ever met." She steps toward him, smiling suggestively, not missing his flicker of a glance at her legs in her almost long enough skirt, chosen today to particularly highlight just what he's been looking at before his eyes come up, before he remembers to look up to her eyes. "I think you do it so you can get me drunk and have your way with me."

He laughs, mostly to hide his feelings, the thought a little too close to home. This isn't the milk he keeps in the cupboard (beside the air fresheners) for when George visits, this is from the fridge. Fresh milk has about the same effect on a Tenctonese as slightly mild, low number proof wine would on a human; she'd probably have to consume the whole gallon to get tipsy. But he'd thought she'd enjoy it, which is why he keeps a steady supply of fresh milk in the hopes that she'll visit.

He's more a beer man himself.

x

He turns, ducking his head in the refrigerator just as the high pitched tone of the Emergency Alert test fills the apartment. Head buried in the refrigerator, he misses Cathy's sharp gasp. He straightens several seconds later, turns toward her near the door and is surprised to find her collapsed against the wall, moaning sensuously, her body moving against her will. She can't keep her hips still as they grind sensually and she reaches up but chearly is forcing herself to keep her hands away from her heaving breasts.

"Cathy?"

She's moaning, gasping, helpless and so obviously sexually aroused he feels an immediate and very human response to her distress, to her unwilling movements - but then he remembers an incident from so many months ago. The Tenctonese nervous system is particularly sensitive to sound and this sound has a powerful erotic effect. Feeling like an imbecile that he'd forgotten about that accidental revelation of one of the Tenctonese' most carefully guarded secrets, he hurries around the partition to the television and switches it off.

"Oh!" she exclaims, her system stunned and she starts to slide helplessly down the wall. He hurries back, reaches her, grabs her, supports her body in his arms.

"Cath? Are you okay?" She's gasping, moaning from lingering stimulation, from deep sexual arousal, and though she lies weak in his arms, held close to him, he can feel her two hearts pound arhythmically in her heaving chest. Her skin is pinker than it was moments ago and the distinctive spots covering her head seem darker.

x

"Thank you!" She welcomes a chance to be in his arms, but this is not the way she'd intended. The speckles that taper down her back tingle as though alive, stimulated by the aborted sound. Even her blouse rubbing against them as she breathes is making her more excited. She tries not to breathe.

"What would've happened if I hadn't turned it off?"

"I wouldn't have been able to control myself! I think I'd–!" She looks up and down his chest, all she can see of him while pressed so close, then covers her eyes to prevent him from seeing as they change from hazel ringed in blue to deep blue. She's trembling, stimulated to her very core and fighting to control it. Thank all the stars he hadn't touched her just then or she didn't think she could recover. As it is, she's fighting her body, her unexpectedly ignited lusts, trembling at the very edge of overwhelming arousal.

Her body is betraying her. Every time she breathes her blouse tickles her Podniki spots on her back and strokes her equally sensitive breasts. It's all going wrong. She'd wanted to just see him, have a nice evening with him; that's why she'd waited so long within her apartment, attentive to the sounds beyond the door until she heard the elevator, heard his distinctive breathing and could make it out in the hallway in time to intercept him. But she hadn't meant to lose control of herself in the first two minutes! This is all going wrong. She'd never meant to get excited – that's crazy – but she hadn't expected to be attacked by his television!

Matt is just as flustered as she is, but she can't allow this incident to deteriorate their relationship. She has to salvage it.

x

"Cath?" he calls, clutching her in his arms to support her better and without realizing it he presses his hand into her lower back.

It rips the breath from her and then, with his other hand, he does the worst possible thing – he starts stroking her, running his hand up and down her back, strumming her stimulated speckles that blast their sensations throughout her heated body.

"Anailii!" she cries, head thrown back, caught off guard by the unexpected surge. She hadn't recovered from the intense sexual stimulation produced by the abusive sound which drove her nerves insane and now his hands are on the physically most sensitive erogenous areas of her body. While she shares the same stimulating sites like the backs of her knees or the bridge of her nose, the small of her back has always been her undoing. The sound alone was horrible enough but wasn't on long enough to destroy her control but now he's strumming her speckles and pressing his hand on the most sensitive part of her back!

Passion flares within her with mind-blasting intensity. She can only gasp, her best efforts to speak reduced to sensuous, aroused moans that can only–.

Her chest heaves against him. She can't help it but the sensation of his chest against her breasts is ripping her control apart! She can see his panic as he holds her closer, tighter, now not strumming her but his arm is across both shoulder blades at once! He's pressing more firmly into her and she feels his crotch pressed unaware to hers. No, her body is pressing it to his! 'Help me! He doesn't realize! I'm not ready! He's not ready! But he's driving me out of my mind!'

x

Matt feels the heat of her body, can see the characteristic pink of her flesh grow deeper, notices peripherally how the spots on her head stand out in sharp relief but he didn't know, in trying to help, that the seizure that's making her gasp and moan is his fault. He holds her closer, trying to talk to her but she seems not to hear him and the more firmly he holds her up the worse she becomes.

"Help me! Nok'desone!" she cries, that peculiar popping sound he's never come close to duplicating. "You're going to– Help me!"

"I'm trying!" He holds her closer, trying to support her writhing body, keeping her pressed to him for support, her chest heaving. He keeps one hand pressed to the small of her back, the other arm across her shoulder blades, keeping her upright.

She can't stop writhing against him, driven further and further out of control, feels her moistening crotch rub along him and she shrieks.

He's unprepared as she grabs him, flings her arms about him, kisses him – Tenctonese don't kiss! – with wild abandon that's almost frightening.

Surprised, he gives in to the delightful, if unexpected, opportunity and draws her closer to him, kisses her with the same fervor, her gasps lost in his mouth. But he doesn't realize the effect of his hands on her back, that erogenous area he'd learned about but forgot in the rush of the moment. His arm across her shoulder blades accentuates her erotic fire.

x

Cathy's body burns, pink flesh turning fiery in spiking lust; it drives her with primal need and she knows she's lost. Driven beyond endurance, she only knows now that she has to have the satisfaction her body craves.

She needs him with an inferno that consumes thoughts, that blasts reason. He's stimulating her mercilessly; what that damned chord started he won't let her stop! She needs to feel his hard body against her fiery flesh. She clings to him as tightly as she can, driven beyond reason, presses her body to his, her lips to his in the human manner in fiery demand. Moaning in unbearable lust, in fiery need ignited by lightning, she can't resist any more, can't fight the lust, the need that tears at her, that consumes her, that defeats her!

x

Breaking the kiss, Matt gasps, pushes her away slightly, his strength no match for hers under the best of conditions. Newcomers average 30 percent stronger but she's …. "Cath! Whoa! Come up for air!"

In her fevered mind she knows only that he's trying to pull away, to push her away, to disengage his body from hers. No! He can't do this, not after exciting her so much. 'Nok' desone!' she thinks with that fragment of her mind that can think. 'He can't do this! He can't push me away – not now!'

She can't let him!

Matt, having gone with the flow, is taken completely by surprise as the burning, passionate woman in his arms becomes a lustful tigress. She gets her hands between the halves of his shirt and rips it from his body. She pulls hard at his belt as they tumble over!