Might Have Been Ch. 08: Conclusion

I thought she deserved a defense. "People sometimes make poor choices in life and need a second chance."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I feel obligated to ask whether your recommendation is biased by other factors."

"Did she sleep with me in order to curry a recommendation?"

"That's more blunt than I would prefer."

"She didn't. I made mistakes that derailed my life for a few years. Irina was a kindred spirit, and I encouraged her to get her life back on track. That's it. She must be going through a tough time right now, and could use some support."

Professor Nguyen leaned back, and smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Viktor Pugachev is an asshole, who took credit for some of my research back when I was a postgrad. If I can get a promising replacement for you, and piss him off at the same time, it's all good."

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New York -- August 25, 2012

Tasha and I once went to a comedy club in downtown Chicago. We arrived late and received seats off to the side. The opening act was a magician, who specialized in performing his tricks from behind a velvet-covered podium. The audience oohed and ahhed every trick, but because of our vantage point, we could see how everything was done.

From the front, it appeared as if he were holding up a curtain held in two gloved hands, behind which objects would magically appear and disappear at his will. From the side, I could see one of the gloved hands was a fake -- physically attached to the baton that supported the curtain -- this freed his right hand to manipulate objects in a completely mundane fashion.

Tasha thought the act was ruined -- the mystery was gone. She was in a sour mood which had us leaving before the magic act was even complete.

Her reaction was unfathomable to me. I was fascinated, and thought the mystery had deepened. Did he make the curtain with the fake hand or did he buy it? How much did he have to practice to keep the illusion? Could I move objects the way he did without letting the audience see my shoulder move? How had he concealed the switch between the real and fake hand? As a result, I studied magic as a hobby for months. While the mechanics of a trick were often simple, creating a convincing illusion took extraordinary artistic skill, and I had great respect for talented magicians.

I thought of magic when I beheld Sarah's naked form for the first time. Denudement. Amy's malapropism flashed through my head as I laid Sarah down on her bed, stripping off her tank top and sports bra. She removed my shirt, and after discarding the condom, I joined her on the bed. Hidden behind clothes, Sarah's body had been a mystery, but now, Sarah was like the exposed magic act -- the mystery was not diminished, but enhanced. Her form was now a foreign, beautiful landscape, calling out for exploration.

How responsive would her nipples be to my fingers and tongue? Did she like to have them pinched or pulled, or just lovingly touched? Did she want them suckled and squeezed during sex, or did she find it a distraction? Was her skin there as soft as the rest of her, or even softer?

She still had the ruby belly button piercing, with matching studs in her ears. Did she like her navel played with and kissed, or did it tickle? Sarah's dancing had left her stomach, hips, and legs in the best shape I had ever seen -- her ass was well and truly callipygian. How flexible was she? How far could she spread those legs? Her bikini line was neatly trimmed, but she didn't shave, presenting a thatch of beautiful and natural black hair. How did she like to be touched? Directly, or only after gentle and circuitous preparation? How did she taste?

I would find the answers to some of those questions today. For the rest, I hoped for a lifetime to answer -- as well as the answers to the questions those answers would themselves raise, ad infinitum -- world without end.

We roamed across each other's bodies, familiarizing ourselves, testing responses. She lingered on my chest and shoulders, with her fingers tracing the definition of my muscles. She toyed with my chest hair and ran her fingernails down my stomach. Her hands traced the outline of my legs, and when she finally grasped my cock, she raked the shaft with the backs of her nails. She seemed to like the way it felt, as she cupped me in her hand, and nestled her face against my chest.

I began to speak, but the phone rang.

"The machine will take it," she muttered, snuggling closer.

"You still have a land line?"

She shrugged as her answering machine activated. The caller was her new ex-boyfriend. "Sarah, I'm really upset about this, and don't know what went wrong. Things were going so well last night after the concert. You taught me things about my body--"

Sarah rose quickly, and her hand moved as if she still practiced Taekwondo. The answering machine was muted with extreme prejudice, falling off her bed stand. I doubted it would ever work again.

She bared her teeth at me in a rictus of embarrassment.

I chuckled. "It's okay, I kind of guessed from the condoms and the lonely stiletto heel on the floor next to the couch."

She still looked sheepish.

The phone rang again, and her expression changed to annoyance. "Sorry, let me yell at him and he will stop calling."

I gestured assent.

Sarah answered her phone. "Listen, just because we slept together once doesn't give you the right--" Her face suddenly fell. "Oh, hi mom."

I doubled over in silent laughter, and she kicked me -- twice.

"Don't ask," she said to her mother.

...

"Hey, guess who's here? Lance!"

...

"Yeah, from Monroe."

I waved.

"Lance says 'Hi'."

...

"Hi Lance," Sarah relayed.

...

"Yes, he did have a cute butt, and still does."

...

She grinned at me. "Yes, he did hear me say that."

...

"Maaaybe. We were just discussing that now." She turned to me, and covered the phone, speaking in an aside. "Mom always liked you." She uncovered the phone. "Can I call you back tonight?"

...

"Thanks, love you, bye." Sarah hung up, waited a few seconds, and removed the phone from the hook. She collapsed back on the bed.

"Have I told you today how awesome you are?" I asked.

"No more interruptions!" she declared. "Where were we?" She resumed her position, with her head on my chest, and her hand between my legs. "Much better."

"You were going to tell me why you were crying," I reminded her.

"No, you asked, and I said 'take me to the bedroom'."

I remembered something else about the evening we spent in front of the swimming pool, several universes away. Sarah had been morose over her breakup with Dave. She had defended her decision, but she had voiced doubts. What else did I know about her? Sarah had lived in New York for ten years now and hadn't found anyone special. I had just watched her dump her last boyfriend over the phone, with not a single sign of regret.

I knew why she was crying.

"Sarah, you have this tough, porcelain exterior, but you're softer than you let anyone know."

She kissed my chest.

I slid my arm underneath her to hold her close, and let my thumb trace the line of her spine. "You second-guessed yourself when you left Dave. You loved him, and feared you threw away your only chance at love."

"I'm a stupid-head. I know I did the right thing, but still..."

"So now you're afraid you're too high maintenance, demanding, or bitchy for anyone worthy of you."

She looked up at me, with her eyes widened. I had voiced her thoughts almost exactly.

I took her face in my hands, and kissed her. "You're not too high maintenance." I kissed her again, and the taste of salt told me her tears had resumed. "And you're not too demanding." I left the sentence off on a tone that conveyed I was going to continue, but I said nothing more.

When she realized I was stopping there in my defense of her, she punched me in the arm. (One of the upsides of multiple universes, I had found, was getting more mileage out of my jokes.)

Sarah spoke her mind. "Sometimes I thought that. You don't know how many times I have considered settling." She looked at me with mock accusation. "Somewhere along the line, I developed a taste for smart men, with confidence bordering on arrogance. In New York, most men fitting that profile are materialistic Wall Street assholes." Her smile reappeared. "But you're here now. I hate regret, and now I have a chance to see what can happen. Yes, that makes me happy." Her hand squeezed my cock for emphasis. When it responded to her touch, she continued her squeezes, and began kissing my neck.

"It's my turn to tell a story," I said as my body responded to her hands and lips. "I recently rethought every major decision in my adult life. And I couldn't think of any decision I could have made differently that would have brought us together, no matter how much I wanted it. I would have had to betray who I was to do it, and I knew you would never let me do that." I paused as her mouth moved down my neck to lick my nipples.

Sarah evidently had a thing for a man's chest muscles. She was kissing all around my pecs, and she got more into it when I flexed them, kissing harder, and increasing the rate at which her hand pumped my cock.

"But I also realized I was comparing almost every woman I dated to you. Was she as beautiful as you? Was she as clever? As quick? Did she have your decency and common sense?"

Sarah had moved her kisses down to my stomach. She licked my belly button and headed south.

"I think half the reason Tasha sucked me in so deeply was that she was the only woman I had met who could hold a candle to you. But her virtues came with mental illness."

"It takes a lot of effort not to go crazy when you're as awesome as I am," she said, just before her mouth embraced me.

"I'll tell you the full story someday," I said through a moan, "but you really did help me get my life back together. Mostly just by example."

Sarah used both her hands and mouth as she fellated me. Her hand rapidly stroked the base of my shaft, while her lips swallowed the glans. As soon as she had me back to full strength, she climbed up on top to straddle me. "Just a sec, I want to try something," she said, producing another condom and placing it on me. She then wrapped one leg around my thigh, but extended the other into a front split that placed her foot right next to my face. Using her hands for balance, she brought herself down on top of me, still very wet and slick from our earlier bout, and I entered her. The happy smile on her face flowered into euphoria.

"If we can handle each other as lovers--" I began.

Sarah interrupted. "Speaking of sexual compatibility, I need to confess something. I have a mild foot fetish. I've always said the perfect man would be one who could have their cock in me, and suck my toes while I did a front split. And I think you just... might... have... the perfect torso length." She adjusted the position of her legs, and wiggled her toes in front of me.

Suddenly, she stopped, her face contorted in agony. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" She quickly flipped her legs around, and dismounted, laying back on the bed. "Stupid amateur."

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

"I didn't stretch. Cramp." Her jaw was clenched tight in pain.

"Where?"

She pointed to her left calf. I took it in my hands -- her sinews were knotted into a ball of steel cords. I worked it with my fingers until it relaxed.

"Oh, bless you. It serves me right for wanting to rush things."

"Rush things? I've known you for twelve years."

She grinned while performing a calf stretch on her sore leg. "Yeah, you have." She switched to her other calf. "Sorry, I'd promised no more interruptions and now I'm stopping to stretch."

"I'm watching a nude dancer perform calisthenics, and you think you need to apologize?"

She just smiled, and worked her way through quad, hamstring, and groin stretches, all of which did amazing things to her body and to my libido.

I idly ran my fingers down her back. "What were you saying about my perfect torso? I liked the sound of that."

"If I can mount you properly, after I stretch, I think you might have the perfect length to kiss my toes while you're inside me."

"I don't know. I have tied up a woman and tortured her with chili sauce. Another girlfriend liked having sex in a closet with another man in the room. Yet another loved having a finger up her ass. I even did a threesome once. But toe-sucking? That's just weird." I knew Sarah would take this as open communication rather than a boast.

"You're talking about your sex life now? You have changed. I'm going to have to get all the filthy secrets you wouldn't tell me in high school. Heather told me your turn-ons were listening to a woman talk dirty and watching her orgasm." Sarah had completed her stretches and flipped her legs to perform her split on top of me. "Suck my toes and I promise you'll get both. We can discuss some of the things you did with those other girls, and I'll have my own ideas, but I draw the line at chili sauce."

"I don't know..." I felt a squeeze of hot velvet as she enveloped me again.

Sarah was not to be denied. "How about if I feed you chocolate with my toes?" She wiggled them again.

I thought I knew where she was going. I thrust up inside her, and kissed her toes. "I would prefer to play with your breasts." She leaned over, allowing me to cup them both. Her nipples were pink diamonds on skin the color and texture of white rose petals. I felt them tighten between my fingers, pinched them still tighter, and felt Sarah quiver and clench around me in response.

"Just fuck me with your tulgey wood. Fuck me hard." She laughed as she spoke.

I took each toe into my mouth, tasting them. It really did arouse her. Her inner muscles still massaged me, and she was grinding herself against my pelvic bone. I could feel she was close to orgasm already.

"You love my cock in you, don't you?" I asked, using two of the words at once.

"Yes!"

I cried her name, finishing the septet. I took all five of her toes in my mouth, and ran my tongue across them like they were a xylophone.

That brought her over the brink. She yelped, then sighed. Her hands grabbed onto my chest, and her pelvis pushed down to shove me deep. She screamed again, then held herself still as her body shook with tremors and aftershocks.

She finally spoke, laughing again. "Oh wow, I think you're right! Those are the seven sexiest words in the English language. The only words that might compete were when you told me earlier you were wrong."

Maintaining our most intimate point of contact, Sarah abandoned her split, and her hands drew me into a sitting position, where she now straddled atop me, with both legs wrapped around my waist, placing her breasts directly in front of my face. I kissed her nipples for the first time, as she slowly rocked on top of me.

Her mouth hissed encouragements down toward my ears. "You've been wondering for years what those taste like, haven't you Lance?"

I answered by clasping a nipple between my teeth, and flicking it with my tongue.

"Oh, that's it. I like how you use your tongue. I have wondered what it would be like to have you suck them. I still sometimes get myself off at night imagining it's you."

I swirled my tongue around her nipples, as her inner heat caressed me.

"I cheated on our deal. I said that if you sucked my toes, I would talk dirty for you. You bought what I would give freely. I can't help myself. When you're near me, I just turn into a dirty-mouthed slut, who badly needs to be fucked."

My hands grazed her flanks and thighs, savoring soft warm skin stretched taut over muscles as hard as rock from dancing. This woman would never tire out.

Sarah's words continued to push me to the brink. "You're going to get spoiled," she said. "My tits are in your mouth, my pussy is about to suck the cum out of your cock again, and now you're grabbing my ass. Are you going to see how deep inside me you can go? Please? I want to feel you in deep. Fuck me deep."

She spread her legs wide, undulated her hips, and I was completely engulfed.

"Does shoving that spear of yours into me get you all hot? Are you going to come? Are you going to shoot your cum inside my hot... wet... pussy? I want it! I need to feel you come inside me!" A sly smile crossed her face. "Fuck me with your tulgey wood!"

That did it, and like the Jabberwock, I burbled as I came.

Sarah collapsed next to me on the bed, and I held her in my arms. She was as full of delight and promise as a spring morning. With her cuddling next to me, I was elated, and optimistic.

Dr. Nguyen's experiments would be a success, and they would need to be replicated and expanded, opening whole new vistas in physics. I was starting grad school next week knowing more about the ramifications of the theory than any man alive. I had a wonderful woman in my arms, and a universe of futures was spread out before me, with each possible path more beautiful than the next. I didn't know whether my life could stay as perfect as this moment, but I relished the challenge.

"It's 9:56 AM," Sarah said.

"Yeah? How about that."

"Everything happened like you said it would." She was just realizing I had hit my called shot. "How the hell does anyone plan anything that well?"

"You thought that was all planning? I burnt myself, took a stiletto heel in my kidney, forgot to bring condoms, broke your couch, and almost gave you a concussion on the door frame. I think I killed your plant, and I gave you a muscle cramp."

Sarah propped up her head with her elbow to look at me, drawing lines on my chest. "What world do you live in? When you said you planned to have me in bed by ten this morning, I thought you were being audaciously arrogant, knowing I've always found that hot. I'd been planning to string you along for a few weeks to ensure you weren't a basket case, before trying to jump your bones. I didn't think you had a chance of actually succeeding today. The bumps, mishaps, and interruptions are just normal. The only place stuff like that doesn't happen during sex is in porn movies."

"Or fantasies. Or dreams."

"No difference. How did you pull this off?"

"You won't believe me, but I promise I'll tell you all about it someday."

Sarah was satisfied by that, and lay on her back, leaning her head on my shoulder, and beaming at me with contentment. "Did you have any other plans for today?" she asked.

I started to trace a sideways figure eight on her stomach -- then thought better of it, and drew a line instead, extending it onward and downward. I answered her question with my fingers and lips, knowing I could kiss and touch her for eternity.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Epilogue

Chicago -- August 22, 2012

It was my last day in the lab. Tomorrow morning, I would drive to New York, and sell my car on arrival. I had spent most of the day showing Irina how to do my job. She was indeed a fast learner, but seemed scared of me. She hadn't asked me why I had given her the advice I did. Instead, she asked questions about work, and she made sure she understood her role.

She had wandered off somewhere while I reviewed my software documentation in the experiment room, where work still continued. The data required months of analysis, and every day they tweaked the settings and teleported more particles.

I observed progress closely. When I hadn't been chasing down old almost-girlfriends or packing for New York, I had been reading everything I could find about Everett's theories, and Dr. Nguyen's experimental design. I planned on expanding them as part of my studies at Columbia.

The secrets of the resonance array were still mine. I hadn't told anyone what it could do if it were connected to a twelve volt power supply and you thought about a decision from your past.