No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 05

"I began to harden, my cock beginning to tent up the loin cloth. They all noticed, of course. I watched their eyes flit across the three of us sitting there. Their eyes dipping down to look at our crotches. Clearly, I wasn't the only one.

"Sundar began a chant and they closed their eyes, their hands resting on their knees. I stared at them, their breasts rising and falling with their controlled breathing, their yonis opening slightly, glinting with a little moisture." He let his hand cup her open cunny, his fingers joined his thumbs around her lips, painting them with the moisture seeping from inside her.

"Within minutes we had mounted them. It really was like that. We each slipped off our loin cloths, reclined them back onto some pillows and penetrated them. It was so delicious a feeling to slip into the one I had chosen, Rani I think her name was. She was hot and wet and I knew she was struggling to not climax. It was one of her first times. We moved in rhythm to the chant, feeling the rising crest and falling wave as our cocks bottomed out inside and pulled almost out entirely." He began to push into her with his fingers.

"An hour later and they had orgasmed several times, but the others and I were still in familiar territory, a long distance from any climax, and then it came at me. Like a wild storm from somewhere deep inside I felt the rush of a wave crash over me. I may have lost consciousness. I do know Rani moaned in a way different from anything she'd done that day. I don't know what happened to me, but in my head, in my spirit, I had bathed in that river, and instead of giving anything back, I walked out taking a bit with me.

"Later, I had a chance to chat with Rani; she admitted to being a little frightened. She had felt me go stiff, my entire body that is, my cock was clearly stiff already, and then I vibrated...silently. It was my first time. After a couple more years, I just stopped ejaculating altogether. Each time I orgasm I bathe in the river and walk out, taking a bit with me. It's been almost 25 years."

She gasped, not only at the thought, but at what his fingers were doing. She clutched the bean bag with her hands and closed her eyes. "But, really? 25 years?" It came out in a husky whisper.

"Do you want me to go further?"

She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her, taking her naked body in, raking her with his eyes. She closed her eyes again and nodded, letting his fingers continue their stimulation. She spread her legs wider, until she felt her groin muscles pull and slunk back into the bean bag as far as she could.

She imagined his stiff cock sliding into her, and when he hadn't moved, she looked at him again, raising her eyebrows. "Do you want me to beg you?" She said in her whisper. "Can you fuck me with your hard cock?" She felt wicked saying it, but he had driven her over an edge.

He rolled onto his side, never letting his fingers stop their caresses. She looked down at his raging erection, its purple head bigger than she'd seen it...ever. She wanted him inside her. Badly. Finally. It had been almost a month since their first date. They had done practically everything else.

His hand left her...open, wet and swollen. He cupped her chin, tilting her head back, exposing her completely now. She felt the thousand eyes of the night on her and the old feelings came back, the mixture of humiliation and arousal, of shame and abandon. She rode it, embraced it. She pulled her hands over her head, spread them on the back of the bag inviting him to enter her.

And then he did. Slowly, gracefully, like a lithe cat. Silky smooth she felt his rod slide slowly into her. She moaned deep from her throat and he kissed her there...on her neck, gently, pulling another deep moan from her as his balls lightly touched her below her slit. Another push and he was in to the hilt. She could feel him pulsing, his heart beating inside her.

His hands slid along her arms, until his fingers intertwined with hers. He lay there, holding her open, pulsing inside her, his lips gently kissing her throat.

He moved slowly in and out of her for what seemed like an hour. She had lost track of time. She had lost track of the number of times he had pulled out completely, pulling a moan of protest and desire from her. It was maddening. He raised her up on a wave and pulled it back down. Up until she almost crested, and then down. Over and over again. She had long since pulled her arms around him, her hands on his ass to push him in. She needed him to come inside her, she needed to come on him.

And then, finally, she felt his body stiffen, a vibration that began in his feet and traveled through him like an earthquake. His cock pulsed, expanded and then he did something and she erupted over the edge like a tidal wave breaking a sea wall. She screamed, for the second time that night, and she hoped against hope the pulsing she felt inside her was him finally letting go of his seed.

She lay panting, recovering from the mind blowing climax, feeling him on top of her, feeling the sweat on his back, brushing the light hairs on his ass. She noticed his penis hadn't flagged at all. He still completely filled her up; she could feel the pulse of his heart inside her. She melted a little. At least there's that. She moved against him, feeling him slide inside her. It was delicious.

"Monty," she began. He shifted to hear her better. "I...this...I'm not sure how to say this." She had been thinking how incredibly wonderful this was, and she couldn't really believe it was true. She had flashed on the idea of spending the rest of her life with him, but she knew that was stupid. It was too soon. Besides, what would he think of her if he really knew her...about her...sickness.

He kissed her neck, up her jaw to her lips and then kissed her deeply, sucking the air from her, penetrating her mouth with his tongue. He moved, just so, and she felt his hard prick rubbing her, the bone of his pubis rubbing against her clit. She didn't think she could do it again, but obviously he could. She lay back letting him move against her, draping her hands on his ass, the small of his back, and then, out of nowhere another orgasm began to blossom and she moaned into his neck as she rode it over the top.

* - * - *

She got to Antoine's a little early and grabbed the rare open booth in the back, ordering her gin and tonic on the way. She kept her eyes on the door, her fingers worrying the napkin into little spirals and whirls. She had only looked down for a moment and a shadow made her look back up. How does he do that? "Hi." She looked back down.

"Hi. Thanks for seeing me. I..."

She didn't let him finish. "Please. I have to say this. I don't want you to speak. I need to say this and it will be very difficult for me." He slipped into the booth across from her. She took a long sip from her drink, the alcohol already working its way to her frontal lobe. "Monty. You have no idea how you have hurt me..." She really didn't want to cry but it was almost impossible "...I. Have. Worked. For. 1. Year. To break an addiction I have, and in one month you have screwed it up for me." The last rushed out with a sob she buried into her glass.

He sat there, impassive, a fleeting expression of pain traveling across his face like a tic. The waitress came by and he gave her his order. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Marcie." He prodded her gently to continue.

"Your 'camera.' Your ability to record things. About me. I...I have a problem and you...fucked it up." She immediately regretted how she had started the whole conversation and tried to start over. "I'm sorry. You didn't do anything. You had..have no idea what I'm talking about." She wiped her eyes with the napkin.

"You are upset with my recording you. I got that part the other night. I am in idiot. I shouldn't have done it..."

His drink came and they sat for a moment. She turned his last sentence over in her memory: shouldn't have recorded her or shouldn't have revealed his invention to her? Don't be paranoid. "What do you mean?"

"I should have told you about it in a very different way. I was caught up in the heat of the moment and I forget how weird it is. It's no excuse, but I've been living with this way of thinking for so long I really do forget 'normal' people don't experience things like I do."

"I'm anything but 'normal.' She was bitter. "I like to have people watch me." It came out before she could stop herself. She blushed and couldn't meet his eyes.

The realization of what she said hit him all at once, like a kaleidoscope's crystals all falling together for a brief moment before splintering apart. He put down his drink and closed his eyes, recalling the image. 25 years. Another moment. Her. Being watched. Him. With the perfect 'watcher.' Click.Crack. The crystalline image appeared again and he saw the next steps. He recorded everything he could in that brief moment. He wanted to share it with her. She wasn't finished.

"I'm a freak. An exhibitionist. I've been seeing someone for over a year to try and get better, and I thought I was making progress, and then, WHAM, you come along and blow it all away. I don't know what to do. I'm completely fucked up about it."

He signaled the waitress to send another drink for her.

"Marcie," he tried to get a sentence in. "Can I say something for a moment?"

She nodded, finally looking up. All she saw was compassion. No pity. No disgust. Love? He'd been dropping hints. No way. Not love. Love. Did she love him? Was that what this was about? Losing someone she was starting to fall in love with?

"You already know my thoughts about coincidences, right? Don't you think this is a little weird? We bump into each other completely 'by accident.' We hit it off. We have fantastic sex. We have had fantastic sex, right?" He waited for her acknowledgment. "I happen to have this incredible camera, which you knew nothing about. You happen to be an exhibitionist, which I knew nothing about. And we find ourselves together. Not possible, right?"

"But I don't want to be an exhibitionist. I want to be normal!" She hissed it rather than shout it out as loud as she really wanted. It wasn't even what she wanted to talk about -- she wanted to tell him she had figured out the same thing with Patti, but she got hung up on her disorder.

"What is abnormal about being an exhibitionist?"

She could see he was sincere. She couldn't believe it. "You're kidding, right? You'd date a woman who likes to take her clothes off in front of strangers? Who likes to do it in front of cameras? It's humiliating. It's wrong. What's wrong with you for not seeing how wrong it is?"

Again they were interrupted by the waitress. They waved her on.

He pursed his lips and looked at her, sizing up his next comments. "I'm not going to argue with you. I can see you feel strongly about it, and I can see you've been working hard at reconciling it. As it turns out, I don't feel any judgment about it whatsoever. I don't know what 'normal' is. I don't see that there's anything wrong with you getting off on being naked in front of strangers. But I see that it disturbs you a lot; Please know I respect your feelings about it even if I don't feel the same way."

"You're sounding just like my therapist," she laughed a little into her glass. "La dee da. Take off your clothes whenever you want. No one cares. You're the only one who gives a shit." She was getting angry. "Why don't I just strip right here. I mean, what the fuck. Might as well." Unfortunately, even the thought of it, combined with the alcohol, had actually started a small tremor of interest in her groin. Oh no. Please. Not now.

"I'm not sure that would be prudent, only because it's against the law and the results could get a little complicated. But if you want to go to a club where you can strip naked, I'm sure we can make that happen."

As much as she was looking for any sign of him patronizing her, she couldn't detect a bit. She looked at him like he was crazy and finished off her drink. "Maybe a better idea would be to invite some of your workmates over and I could put on a show for them...or...wait. I know, why don't we have a film party with me in the porn starring role? Oh, wait. We just had a party, and what do you know, I was the porn star!"

He waited, letting the outburst pass. There was nothing to say. He wasn't titillated by the idea of her being an exhibitionist any more than he would have been if she were a cross-dresser, a Lesbian, or a seamstress for that matter. He thought back to her earlier anger at his lack of 'investment in the future.'

"Remember a few weeks ago your annoyance at my philosophy regarding the future? I think you posed the scenario of us having a kid and the kid being hit by a car. Yeah?" She looked at him, waiting. "Okay. You left last night after learning only half of what I needed to tell you. Before you decide we're through and that I'm not good for you, or worse you're not good for me, I'm hoping you'll give me another hour or so of your time to hear the rest of the story."

She started crying at the thought he was ready to break up with her. She hadn't really heard everything he'd said, but the image of her being through with him finally hit home. She didn't want to be through with him. She really wanted to be with him. She pulled herself together, sniffling into her napkin. "Okay."

"Okay. Finish up that drink and let's get out of here. This is no place to talk."

When she got up she realized she'd had too much to drink and wobbled a little. "Are you okay to drive," she worried.

"It's a small place around the corner. Quiet, but not too quiet." He took her arm and escorted her out the door.

What the fuck, she thought. He seems completely unfazed by my disorder. How could I find such a guy? Would he really be okay with my stripping in front of strangers? The thoughts boiled through her mind, uninhibited by the alcohol. The familiar feeling in her groin at the thought of being naked in front of people started to grow. What's wrong with him? How could he be okay with this? She imagined him following through on the suggestion of bringing her to a strip club.

A crisp, Spring breeze hit them as they rounded the corner pulling her out of her musings. She grabbed her coat and unconsciously nestled into him for warmth. I do like the way he's built. He's got money. He's ambitious. He seems like he's got his head screwed on straight...except for the camera thing...and I still don't know what this Tantric stuff is really all about...but it sure as fuck feels good when he does it to me. Again her thoughts were interrupted as he stopped in front of a storefront bistro. He opened the door for her and let her pass in.

"Dr. Green," a maitre d' welcomed him. "I will have a table ready for you in a moment. I hope the evening is treating you well?"

"Thanks Charlie. Yes. Charlie. Marcie. Marcie. Charlie." She accepted Charlie's handshake and offered him her coat. "We'll wait at the bar, if that's okay."

Dr.? When did he become a Dr. all of a sudden?

The place was packed, with people waiting at the bar. She wondered what kind of pull he had that they would get a table ready for him without a reservation. They stood at the bar; all of the stools were taken. She noted the bartender gave him a sign and in a moment came over.

"Dr. Green. What would you like this evening?"

"I think it'll be 'one of those nights', Jack. A caipirinha for me. Marcie? Another G&T?"

She felt a little steadier after the brisk walk, and knowing they'd be eating soon, she agreed.

"Ummm...do you own the place, Doctor?" She looked around, realizing he probably did, remembering too late about the single-sheeter. He had interests in several restaurants, she recalled.

"Yes. There are several of us. Limited partnership. I don't get involved in the operations, but I've been the chef's biggest fan. Young guy out of Hungary, actually. PhD (a couple actually), not MD."

She could see why he chose it -- it was just loud enough to cover their conversation but not so loud they had to shout.

The drinks came and before she could take two sips, Charlie came by to usher them to their table. As they walked she noted the other patrons -- some dressed to the teeth, others on their way to another event. Mostly couples, she saw, a few small groups. The room was dimly lit; each table had a small spotlight on the white cloths, art on the walls lit by their own lamps.

The table was in back with a window into the kitchen. He sat facing the room giving her a view of the chefs. It was surprisingly quiet in this corner. There were no other tables nearby.

Charlie mentioned a few of the specials and gave them a single page menu.

"French fries, Charlie. If you could. Thanks." He looked up at her surprise and smiled. "Signature dish. The chef knows his way around potatoes."

"Okay. Where do I pick this thing up?" He took a sip of his cocktail. "We've got this 'widget,' for the sake of discussion, that lets us capture events at any point on the Space-Time grid. We had hoped to use it to explore alternate futures but we ran into some major theoretical roadblocks. Moving in time forward is almost impossible, we think, moving in time backward is pretty easy -- as you saw -- but moving in time sideways is tantalizingly just outside our grasp."

She hadn't put it together like that even though everything he'd been saying for the past few weeks all pointed in that direction. She smiled at the sudden image of his cock pointing towards her. "Sideways." She acknowledged.

"Right. An infinite number of alternate futures. We can't travel into the STC..." She quickly unpacked 'STC' —SpaceTime Continuum— "...more than a microsecond...well that's theoretical...more than a picsosecond at the moment, which seems like a very short time, but in fact is ages in terms of the universe."

She took a drink and held up her hand, motioning him to hold on. "Hold on...hold on...you're saying you have successfully seen into the future a picosecond? How much ...or better said...how little is that?" Her head was swimming a little.

"A trillionth of a second. Not long in our time frame, but when it comes to decaying electrons, quarks and all that, it's a lifetime. We've seen enough to know that much of String theory is likely correct. Haven't published the theoretical stuff yet, but it will likely be Nobel laureate work."

She looked at him in awe. Who is this guy?

"Oh, not for me. I'm just the money man in this case, but for some of our researchers this is their life's crowning achievement, and I'm all too happy to help out."

"Sideways, you were saying."

The waiter came to take their order. He ordered a bottle of wine. She wasn't sure if she would be able to walk out. Her resolve from earlier in the day was dissolving. What had she been hoping? That he would apologize? He'd done that. That he would promise her he'd turn the thing off and help her with her sickness? He'd actually suggested something completely opposite. The feeling in her groin stirred again. They gave the waiter their order.

"Right. Sideways. Let's say we could "point" the camera along any number of possible grid lines in the STC. Theoretically, we should be able to advance along the time line and see what future lies ahead. Of course if we pursued that line we'd miss out on all of the other lines...assuming the 'camera' is like a normal SLR. But it isn't an SLR. It's more like a lightbulb that sucks rather than glows."

The image made her head hurt. "Hold it. You used that analogy before, right? But I thought we were...we weren't talking about this...we were talking about...about Tantric meditation or something, weren't we?" She was missing something. Something just outside her understanding. She could just barely get there, but the alcohol or her own self-involved issues were getting in the way. Her phone vibrated, making her jump. Goddamn phones! I just want to throw them out! Why doesn't his phone ever ring?