The Problem With Immortality Ch. 03

Anson winced. He felt like he had been betrayed.

But he hadn't been betrayed. He had left her. She had the perfect right to do everything she was doing.

Anson's finger hovered over the photo section. He knew he shouldn't look any further. It was enough to see the smiling photo of his naked ex-wife, looking eager to have sex with any man who would have her.

Anson watched with a horrified fascination as his finger, apparently operating of its own volition, clicked on the "more images" tab.

He saw a closeup of Jennifer's breasts, while she was standing up. They were as gorgeous as he remembered them.

He saw a photo of her well rounded ass, the ass which had received more than a few mock spankings which generated theatrical protests from her and then passionate lovemaking for both of them.

He saw an image of her face, one where her eyes were rolled up, her mouth opened to an O, and her cheeks flushed. It was not just any face. It was an orgasm face. Anson wondered which of her many paramours had done that with her. It bothered him that he would never know.

And then the last picture was the worst one of all. He never should have looked.

But he did.

It was a holoimage of Jennifer's vagina.

With a penis, sticking halfway out of it.

Anson, looking at the apparently solid image of a penis sticking out of his wife's vagina, felt like he had just been stabbed through the heart. He knew that Jennifer had been sleeping with other men, but to see it like this, to see it so graphically, shocked him to his very core. And then his next dreadful thought was to wonder why she had posted such an explicit photo. And to that he only had one answer.

Jennifer wanted sex. She wanted sex so badly that she had posted the most erotic, scandalous holoimage of herself she could to attract as many men as possible. She was trying to drown her sorrows with as many anonymous penises as the world could provide.

Anson's chest churned with emotion. He choked back a sob.

Suddenly, he heard a yawn. He looked up to see Jessica stretching. "My brain is broken. I need a break. Want to have some sex?"

Anson, not trusting the integrity of his voice, nodded curtly.

********

True to his word, Anson let Jessica select the third candidate, though he did jointly interview the finalists with her. The one they ended up selecting was a woman named Naomi Greenstein. She was 180 years old, though cosmetically only 28, and had several advanced degrees in art and education. She was smart, she was talkative, she was witty.

And above all, she liked sex. They verified that in casual discussion with her. They even made sure to find out if she liked sex on the first date.

"If I like the guy, why not?" said Naomi. "I mean, we've been doing it for hundreds of years. It's not like we're 16 again, right?"

Jessica looked at Anson, and they both nodded to each other.

Naomi was the one.

********

"What did you think you were doing sending this... female to me?" Francisco Odour raged over the holocomm.

Anson, ever the gentlemen, took full responsibility, even though Jessica had selected her. "Sir, you indicated the problem with your last date was that she was not physically available," he said carefully. "Did this one reject your overtures as well?"

"Overtures? Overtures? I never got the chance to make an overture!" Odour raged. "We were sitting in my parlor, having tea, and then, less than twenty minutes after she stepped through the door to my home, she's putting a hand on my leg, and starts rubbing my penis!"

"Sir?" said Anson. "I thought you liked women who-"

"Are you deaf, Mr. Ford?" said Odour. "I told you I liked a woman who would be responsive to my advances. This woman you sent me was little more than a whore. Is that what you sent me, Mr. Ford? A whore? Be honest with me, please."

"No sir, she was no whore, I guarantee it," said Anson, trying to check his anger. "She was a highly educated-"

"A highly educated something something. Whether she whores for her day job or her night job, she has the attitude of a whore. And this I cannot abide," said Odour.

"Sir, if you'll just give us another chance-"

"So you can send me another prostitute?" said Odour. "So far your choices have been abysmal, Mr. Ford."

"Sir, I did warn you that this process might take some time," said Anson.

"And so you did. But I thought it was understood that we were talking about your time, Mr. Ford. Not mine," said Odour. "I think we've covered this avenue of research quite thoroughly. I didn't hire you to pimp whores for me. I hired you to explore all the possibilities of the limitless universe to find something that would interest me. If I wanted a whore, Paris is full of them."

"Yes sir," said Anson woodenly, hiding his clenched fist behind his back.

"I'll be honest with you, Anson. This has been a disappointing beginning. I know it's a challenging assignment, but I expected better from you. Don't report back until you have something more substantial than a back alley prostitute."

Odour's image faded.

Jessica put an arm around his shoulder. "That was nice of you not to blame me for Naomi. Any other Fixer would have deflected it on me."

"You weren't to blame," said Anson. "A woman simply isn't the answer for that man."

"Then what is?" she asked, rubbing his back softly.

"We will have to search farther afield," he said simply.