The Long Highway Pt. 11

I thought of using letters from Nelson for a writing project, in collaboration with him of course, not hijacking his stuff and claiming it as my own- nothing like that, naturally.

But it wouldn't work, wouldn't make me a writer, an artist like Nelson and Akemi.

I talked to Akemi of other things, other friends, brought up Christopher, whom I'd met through my writing, Danish reader.

"I don't think we're going to be keeping in touch."

"Why not?"

"Our lives are just too different. He has a Scandinavian, prosperous life."

I like Christopher and his wife Bente a lot but we only know each other from the words I've typed up and made available. We've met just a few times, live on different continents, are about as far away as you can get, to put it succinctly.

I recalled the last meeting. I'd visited their place in Copenhagen and after a pleasant hour of conversation with coffee and pastries was about to leave. Christopher and Bent were on the other side of their living room, looking my way, seeming to confer about me in an approving way, when a little wooden Scandinavian doll, toy they had- nothing less than a marvel- appeared on the living room floor making a bee line in my direction. And we talked, it and me, while my two friends looked on, standing at a distance, amused, pleased by the exchange. I could see their mouths move but not what they said.

I don't remember who started it.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"My name is Julia." Cute as a button. She spoke English. It occurred to me I should have spoken Danish- which I don't know- but it was fine.

A wooden doll, mind you, small, only about as tall as my hand, simple, rustic design (Scandinavian) but full of digitalized functions. You could call it a perfect representation of the Danish way, preserving- yes, championing- the traditional while breaking ground to a future that is highly livable- sustainable the word of the moment and a good one.

The wonder of modern technology. Scandinavia was definitely among the top innovators. Of course less than six million people spoke Danish, so the manufacturer pretty much had to program in English or else reach only a very limited public.

She (it) had proper British diction. Adorable the world for her.

I don't remember how she was dressed or anything. Cutely. Smartly. Maybe with a ribbon in her hair. Maybe she wore a pinafore. More likely was a navy blue outfit, dark blazer closed by brass buttons, a brightly colored handkerchief somewhere. Dressed just so is the thing. Like a doll, I could say, ha ha.

I remember her eyes and upright bearing. She spoke directly but not out of turn, like a well-mannered, well-raised European. Naturally the Scandinavian toy company would use a model from nearby rather than America.

"How old are you?"

I forget her answer.

Somehow it came out that she was married, either that or had a boyfriend. Was this part of her self-introduction (programed in, of course)?

"And you?" she asked politely. "Do you have a husband?"

Her first mistake. No android can be perfect, after all. The illusion can't sustain all the way through a conversation.

"I'm a man, so I don't have a husband. But I have a wife."

"What's her name?"

"Akemi?"

"Are you going to marry her?"

Second mistake. Still, remarkable. I wondered how many other languages the digital doll spoke. Japanese was unlikely.

Later I told Akemi about it.

"Just incredible. She spoke, I mean she spoke English."

Akemi didn't seem to get it. You have to have met the delightful personage to react as I had.

I thought of my dream about the the view through an open door of two people making love. And I felt I'd like that Scandinavian doll to see Akemi and me in bed, to see how two real human beings, a man and a woman, went about it.

-- --

note to Nelson from the beginning of my involvement with Akemi, when I was still with Pam and Akemi and I were only flirting

I visited Pam again last night. Again my desire for intimacy raged. Finally I asked Pam to go down on me and she did with as much ardor as ever. It was good. I just felt bad that I'd had to ask. She hadn't taken initiative. I felt in the wrong for asking. If she'd wanted to, she would have without my asking and when I did so she could hardly say no. She seemed in a hurry to finish and careful to avoid having me come in her mouth. She pulled off well before I ejaculated.

"Too early?" she asked, still using her hand.

"Yeah, well."

I came monumentally, felt a great weight had been lifted.

If only she hadn't wanted to hurry and been so determined to not have my semen in her mouth. Why? It was as if she were saying, "Yes, I'll give you what you want if you're such an idiot as to ask for it, but I won't draw it out as you might like and I'll make sure you come outside. I'll bring you off by hand rather than risk that." I felt that even in the generous act she was intent on holding back as much as possible, sending a message that checked my enjoyment.

What kind of relationship is it? This is real, how things are. It's not something I can wish away or open my eyes from, as one might from a dream, and discover all is fine after all.

We were biking this morning and I lost sight of Pam and biked back on the road we'd passed and couldn't find her. I felt panic, like a lost child, I realized. When we did find each other, Pam was annoyed. I'd ridden further than I should have, had forgotten we were going not to my place as usual but to a freaking shopping mall where she wanted to buy something for hers- she'd seen a table fan on sale.

Like a lost child? Has Pam become a mother figure in my mind?

I can't help drawing the comparison with oral sex from Akemi. When I pulled out of her mouth just before coming, she asked why, even looked sad. I explained I had out of consideration for her feelings. But I realized she might not have minded, might instead have liked having me come in her mouth.