In Xanadu Ch. 04

"No Yowee this time?" Fanderpeice asked.

"Oh there was plenty of Yowee," Jane replied, "Only it was totally internalized. And I do mean totally. My body is still tingling."

"You will find when you leave here that you will be ready to go to work and that you will be totally energized for your work, that tensions you didn't even know you were experiencing are gone."

"Because we fucked?"

"Because we fucked freely."

"I always fuck freely."

"Like just now?"

Jane thought for a moment. Jane was that rare, truly intelligent person who was willing to honestly inspect her own presuppositions. "I guess not really like just now."

"No seduction. No gifts. No concerns about relationships?"

"But you said I was a member of Xanadu."

"You are."

"And doesn't that entail some sort of obligation?"

"Nope. No obligation. Once in a while you might be asked to join some of us, maybe one of us here for some sex, but you have no obligation to accept the invitation. No penalties if you don't accept. You, as a member, may request a visit when you feel you feel the need for another good relaxation of tension"

"A good fucking?"

"You might say that in that way."

Fanderpeice continued filling Jane in, telling her the details, the facts, the history of Xanadu. Xanadu had thirty-eight members, 19 of either sex. There were few rules. One major rule: a member needed to wait at least seventy-two days after participating in sex at Xanadu before that member could join in for another bout of sex activity at Xanadu or with another Xanadu member. This, explained Fanderpeice, was so that the members would be able to resist the pull of sex and, instead, be able to concentrate on their work.

Members did help each other by networking. They shared information a member came into with another member who could profit from it in a professional manner. Jane would be shown a roster of members so that if she did come across some information she knew would be helpful to another member, she could share it with someone who would do the right thing with it.

Jane heard what Fanderpeice was saying without really listening. She was capable of remembering what she heard even if she was thinking about other things. So, she allowed Fanderpeice to continue his lecture while she thought of other things.

Although Jane had just enjoyed one explodingly quick orgasm, one long, amazingly fulfilling orgasm, and one powerfully extended soul satisfying orgasm---all in rapid succession, she began thinking of another one, her loins warming at the thought.

He continued to talk about how members stayed in touch, talked to each other. He explained Xanadu's unhackable, 100% secure web site developed by Steve Wenasky, the founder of computer giant M-Hardware and a member of Xanadu since shortly after its founding.

Jane leaned back and let him talk. He told her how the group scouted its membership, that she had been noticed as a possible recruit many years ago, while she was still in college.

She spread her thighs.

He was talking now about her reporting breakthroughs and how each of them had confirmed her very special talent for writing and reporting.

She put a finger in her mouth and sucked on it.

He continued talking.

She removed her finger and placed it in her cunt.

He was talking now about the people she had met and interviewed and who were members of Xanadu and who had championed her nomination to the club, as a matter of fact, urged that she be inducted, first, for her intelligence, ability, originality, and creativity, and second (really tied for first) for her attractiveness, her sexiness and her hot body.

Jane, her finger now pressing against her cunt, noticed his relaxed and still beautiful fuck-stick was stirring to life.

She smiled.

Finally: Fanderpeice stretched, "I guess, I still owe you one," he said.

He was smiling now, too. He took her hand and removed it from her cunt. He replaced her hand there with his own. His open hand covered her cunt. The heel of his hand pressed against her clitoris. She lay back, and he moved his head down, covering the lips of her vulva with his mouth. His tongue began to move about the open slit of her cunt exactly as Jane had known for the past few minutes that he would be doing. She shuddered. Her excitement grew. Her thighs closed to hold his head in place. His tongue now moved to rub against her clit. He moved his hand to replace his tongue and separated the lips of her vulva. Jane shuddered. She moaned. She placed her hands at the back of his head and kept them there, gently. He moved his tongue slowly from her clitoris down and with it entered the warm interior of her cunt. The sound of her breathing filled the otherwise silent room.

"Wait," she said, spreading her legs wider, making herself comfortable. She sensed that this would take some time.

Was she ever right. It took a long time. Oh, he was good!

It was something that Jane would never forget, something that she could describe in detail even twenty years later, this fucking.

He slid his tongue up all the way past her clit and then, slowly, from her clit, down along the parted lips of her slit, down more, still slowly to the flesh below her cunt and into the curve of her ass, at last into the tight hole of her anus, deep there and hard there. His tongue slithering in and out and in and around while Jane, unable to decide whether to tighten or relax her sphincter muscle, lay and felt the wet soft pleasure of his tongue explore the dark ring of her anal hole.

His tongue slipped out and he replaced it with a forefinger from his hand which had never stopped its exploration of her body, the forefinger not yet deep inside, but past the entrance and just deep enough for her to feel its soft pressure.

Meanwhile his tongue moved back from her ass to her cunt, sweetly passing just inside the parted, soaking wet lips of her pussy and back up again to her clit, staying there for some time, pressing against the swollen, quivering, now totally comfortable clit and easing and then pressuring against it.

She just lay there, her legs splayed wide as possible. His tongue stayed at her clit it seemed forever before, at last, beginning its intrepid, steady, slow journey from her clit to her ass, and then back again to her clit. When his tongue left her clit to begin its downward journey, he moved the finger to cover the needy clit, pressing against Ms. Clit with a slow, soft, steady circular motion until his tongue returned to swirl against it in a wet, pushing, circular motion. Occasionally, when he reached her clit again, he would gently suck it into his mouth, keeping it wet and alive in his mouth with his tongue.

An unbidden desire suddenly banished any thought of further passivity, and Jane took hold of Fanderpeice's head, urgently pressing it down hard, hard, HARD against her cunt. She began moving her hips up and down, holding his head tight against her pussy lips as she established the rhythm she was looking for. Fanderpeice found the rhythm too and, like a jazz bassist responding to the beat of a master drummer, began to match his rhythms to hers.

Then she lay quietly as he continued the movement of his tongue, lips and hands against her clit, cunt and ass. For a long time neither Fanderpeice nor Jane spoke. The only sound was the sound of Jane's breathing, clearly audible in the room. Then, as the trembling of her clit increased, his tongue pressed harder against it, his chin against the lips of her cunt, his hands now gripping both sides of her ass, holding tight there. Her mind was lost without thought as a wild swirl of color and bright light filled her mind, until, gleefully, she started to have the orgasm that had been building and building. And she came and she came and she came and she came, over and over again forever (or it seemed forever).

It stopped. Her climax ended.

He moved up from her cunt and offered his tongue to her mouth. Once again, she tasted her own taste, smelled its tart, sweet aroma and enjoyed a peace past any understanding, a restful quiatitude that passed any she had experienced before.

It was wonderful.

And then Fanderpeice, while he and Jane's mouths held tight and their tongues swirled, adjusted his body to move his penis (it was too gorgeous to call a cock), ok, his cock, ( it was too wonderful to call it only a penis) once again into the grasping hole the good lord had created for it to enter.

She same again. And this time it was as good, it seemed, if not better, than the earlier orgasm, orgasms.

Fanderpeice finally sat up. After a half minute or so, Jane sat up. "Would you like some fruit?" he asked.

Jane shook her head to clear it. What had he asked her?

"Some fruit?" he repeated, "pineapple, orange slices, grapes, papaya?"

"Oh," she replied, "Oh, yes. Yes. Please."

"Coffee?" he added as he stood up.

"Yes," she said again.

He left the room.

Alone in the room, Jane leaned back. Relaxed. She gathered her thoughts, concentrated on the afternoon's events. Never had she ever had an experience even close to the one she had just had. It was as different from any sex she had previously enjoyed as watching Mick Jagger on a You Tube clip compared to sitting fifth row center at a Rolling Stones concert. Her pussy was still wet. Her body, from her toes to her head, was still tremblingly alive; her skin sensitive to any movement, even the stirring of the air in the room.

She remembered the sex. Oh, God, she remembered the sex. She wondered if there would be any more. You know, she thought to herself, she would probably have no trouble at all dealing with even more sex. She wondered about the positions they had not yet explored. Her tits were firm, their nipples still tender. Her clit engorged, her pussy lips swollen, her cunt ready for its next intrusion.

But, although her body was alive to the idea of more sex, her mind was alert for an end to the session, ready and eager to leave this place, to get in front of her computer, to begin making phone calls, arrange meetings, get to work on her next story.

Roger Fanderpeice returned. He was carrying a tray on which were two bowls of beautifully arranged fruit, a carafe full of coffee, and an envelope. He was now wearing a robe, and he carried another robe over his arm. He offered Jane the robe. She put it on. They began to eat the fruit.

Fanderpeice pointed to the envelope. "It's got a name and the telephone number of one of our members, Eric Herschman, You will be well served if you call him"

"The astrophysicist," Jane said. Herschman was the preeminent astrophysicist in the country, She had once shared a brief time with him in the green room of a television studio as they waited to go on as guests of a late night show.

"I believe a story he has to tell will be very interesting," Fanderpeice said.

17 Months Later

To say the least, to say that Eric Herschman's story to Jane was very interesting was an understatement of epic proportions. His story had led to a full year of intense archival investigation by Jane, hundreds of interviews, and complicated negotiations with three universities and six governments. It had resulted in Jane's byline, picture, and story appearing under banner headlines in every major newspaper including the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal, La Monde, the Guardian, Seoul Shinmun, and Peiping People's Daily. In addition, Jane's picture had appeared on the cover of every major newsmagazine including Time, Newsweek, and Rolling Stone. The Huffington Post had covered her story on its home page with over twenty-six links to blogs and magazine coverage. The story Jane had uncovered had led to every major award imaginable, even to the rumor that she would be in line for a Nobel Prize. The Macarthur award she had won was no surprise at all.

The United Nation's Security Council had had two separate meetings (the second with 107 world leaders in attendance) to discuss Jane Bederson's revelations.

But now, at last, the furor over the story Jane had developed was quieting down. And now Jane was back at the entrance to Xanadu. She was ready for a much needed session of what she termed "a sex-tension cleansing."

Never had Jane worked so hard on a story. No one involved had wanted to let the information out. Hidden, covered up, destroyed, denied, kept completely under wraps, the information about the alien who had landed on Earth was carefully, artfully, covered up for more than 50 years. The coverup had even included a false rumor about an alien landing, a rumor that was just weak enough to be ignored by responsible sources. Governments had feared what the aliens' fellow extra-terrestrials might do had they been able to discover that the alien who had landed had been killed, shot to death by a deranged guard.

Jane had to remind herself that it was a mere year and a half since she had been introduced to Xanadu. She had been so busy that she had been back to Xanadu only once since her initial visit, her induction to its membership. That one return visit had happened about a year ago and had followed a phone call from Roger Fanderpeice. The Commander had asked for her appearance at Xanadu. When she arrived at the appointed time (she could not easily ignore a request from The Commander), she was surprised to meet not only The Commander, but Kay Maxwell, Martha Quinn, and Harriet Ott. They had all been there and what had ensued was the warmest, most exciting, interesting and revelatory seven hours of sexual pleasure she had experienced since her first session with Fanderpeice.

The quartet had thought it helpful to Jane to spend the sex filled hours with them as she labored at getting the story right. The experience, it turned out, had been the perfect antidote to the tension she was under while working on the expose. It was more than satisfactory for them too. But that was another story:

*******************

Right at this moment, Jane was at the door of the Xanadu East Side mansion at her own request.

She had called and asked Roger Fanderpeice for the visit.

She needed a renewal of the tension easing, libido unblocking, ability intensifying sexual fulfillment that only Xanadu was able to offer.

She rang the bell at Xanadu's door.

The door opened

Jane walked into the mansion. It was dark, and there was no one there to greet her. But Jane had been forewarned and had been provided with a map which led her through an inner door, down a corridor, up a short flight of stairs, and into the Black Room.

She had been told about the The Black Room in the same message that had contained the map. The room had been designed and developed by a physicist member of Xanadu in collaboration with the light artist Martha Quinn. All light had been removed from the room, in which it was now impossible to see anything although Jane had been told that miniature lens allowing them to see had been fitted for the people entering the room, but not for Jane. Other than that she would be enveloped by perfect darkness, she had no idea of what form her experience today would take.

She trusted Fanderpeice and Xanadu with out reservation, so, when she spoke with him, Jane had asked only that he arrange a session for her.

And here she was. She could see nothing, so she stood still. Then, she felt each of her arms gripped by what felt like two pair of hands and she was led to what felt like a soft, long but narrow padded table. She was lifted onto the table. The hands left her. She could hear slight noise in the room, the shuffling of feet, the rustle of material, a whisper of

sound, the scraping of a chair (?) on the ground.

A picture of "The Alien" flashed before her eyes for less than a second and then disappeared. She began to relive her quest for the story, remember the tips, the weeks and months spent in archives, at the Air Force base outside of Washington, the interviews with the former Presidents, the breakthrough when China's premier agreed to allow her presence during The Contact. Her heart rate had increased, her blood pressure risen when, suddenly, two hands, she couldn't tell if it was the same two hands, laid her down. She heard soft, insistent, quieting music. Jane felt hands moving over her body. Gradually, gently, the hands began to remove her clothing.

The sex was about to begin.

So fully had Jane been engaged in the story that she had rarely thought about sex, had hardly considered it. Yet, at some level, the basic understanding that Xanadu would offer her sexual relief when, finally, she needed it, had allowed her to continue her work on the story.

Her clothing had been removed. She was naked now, lying on some sort of a platform. It was comfortable. The room was pleasantly warm. Jane was ready to shed all the tension of the last year and a half. Even after the story had been published, Jane had been unable to rest. She had been overwhelmed by the follow ups to the story: the interviews, the tv appearances, the award dinners, the negotiations for a book.

Sex, that's what Jane was in need of now. The relief of a good fucking! That is what she was now waiting for.

She could feel now warm hands moving over her body. They were softly spreading an aromatic unguent over her body. It felt smooth and silky. The touches from those around her were delicate. Occasionally, Jane felt a hand linger underneath her breast and gently press there. Gradually, Jane felt the hands linger as she was turned over and the hands continued the application of the lotion to her naked skin with a slow

massaging motion. She could see nothing. She could hear an occasional murmur, a voice either directing the next movement or apologizing for an inadvertent jostle. But, mainly, Jane felt: She felt the gentle massage of quiet hands anointing her with the sweet lotion. Eventually her whole body, front and back, top to bottom, was covered by the warm, sweet lotion. And then the unguent was removed, slowly gently. She could feel the warmth from hands, some obviously female, some male, brushing against her body, rubbing against her legs, her stomach, her back, her neck, her buttocks to remove the lotion. Jane felt relaxed, her body was at ease and comfortably warm.

Still, she could see nothing. She wasn't sure how many people were attending her, but she was sure the people were both male and female. She occasionally felt a breast brush against her leg, a penis brush against her shoulder. She could hear an odd exhalation of breath from one of those in the room, but mostly she was able only to smell a faint, sweet odor and feel an overwhelming relaxation of tension until, suddenly, it all changed.

There was no warning. Jane felt an open hand cover her groin, grip hard , its palm pressing against the swollen lips of her cunt, its fingers squeezing her ass. Another pair of hands gripped her legs at the thighs, holding onto the muscles there. Jane's own breathing

rapidly grew deeper and louder. A third pair of hands began to fondle her breasts. Their touch was delicate. She felt her nipples harden. More hands began to touch Jane. They were everywhere at every part of her fully exposed body, her calves, her ankles, the soles of her feet, her neck, her forehead, her upper chest, her stomach, her back.

Jane let out an involuntary moan. The experience she was having was total..

Then she felt the palm of the hand that had remained pressing against her cunt increase the pressure there with a slow, semi-circular motion which became heavier and more insistently hard against her cunt as it continued.

She let out another moan, this time louder, and, now, the hand moved while its palm pressed against her clitoris. Two fingers snaked into her cunt. Another hand moved under her, pushing against her glutes and one oily finger entered her rectum. Jane began to shudder as pleasurable sensation excited every part of her body. Again, another loud moan escaped from her lips. The fingers in her cunt and the finger in her ass began to move deeper into her body. Another finger pressed against the lips of her mouth. It entered her mouth, and Jane began hungrily sucking it. She realized that ideas or words were unable to describe what she was feeling. Her thoughts were wholly of feeling, of sensation, of a sensual flooding and the quivering excitement thrilling every nerve in her body.