The Problem With Immortality Ch. 06

"Well, that's why we're here. To try something different," said Anson, putting his arm muscles into it as he rubbed the floor.

"Different?" Chelsea made a face. "Yeah, that's one word for it."

*********

There was no stopping for lunch. By the time dinner rolled, around they were exhausted, and hungry.

"I'm famished," said Wendy, as they were led to dinner in the East Wing, where she and Jennifer and that nice couple Ron and Anna had been working.

They were led into a grand hall with a long dining room table. "Please, sit anywhere," said Sister Janice. Monks and Nuns and Initiates sat around the long table.

First the Monks and Nuns were served. Fellow brothers came out bearing trays of steaks and potatoes and salads. But they only put the food in front of the Monks and Nuns. Jennifer guessed they were served first because of seniority.

But then their own food started to arrive. Each of them was given a plate filled with several pieces of celery, and two small crackers.

*********

"Are these the appetizers?" Ambrosia McGyvers asked, sitting in the grand dining hall in the West Wing.

"This is your meal, child," said Brother Roy.

"But... but... all of you have juicy steaks, and salads, and... I see them bringing out chocolate cake for dessert!"

"Yes," said Brother Roy. "Brother Samuel is an excellent baker."

"Then why are we being fed rabbit food?" Chelsea demanded, speaking up as well.

Brother Roy gave her a hard stare. "You are on a different path, child. You are seeking to get in touch with your inner self. Stuffing yourself with senseless calories will only block you on your path to self-enlightenment."

Chelsea watched the brothers around her gobble down large junks of juicy steak. "Don't all these calories block your own paths to... self-enlightenment?"

"Not at all," said Brother Roy, as he chewed on a piece of juicy steak. "We have already ascended to a higher plane of being. Having gotten in touch with our inner selves, we are bonded to it. No amount of earthly pleasures can now separate us from it."

"Well, I hope we ascend to that level soon. Do you think it might happen by dinner, tomorrow?" Ambrosia asked.

"Patience, child," said Brother Roy. "Gifts come to those when least looked for."

Jessica, chewing unhappily on a celery stick, gave Anson an unhappy glance. Anson gave her a "be patient!" stare in response.

After dinner, they were shown their cells, tiny rooms with nothing more than mattresses filled with straw.

"How quaint," said Jessica. "It smells like a zoo, even from here."

"Jessica, part of the life of being a Fixer is experiencing things that aren't always pleasant," said Anson. "It's all about doing what's best for the client."

"That's what I keep telling myself. But I'm still hungry. Can't we go out and get some food?"

"We're 7,000 feet up on an icy mountain with no way of getting down without being detected. I'd say no."

"Well I need something! I need meat!" she cried, rubbing her belly.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any," said Anson.

She pulled him close, and looked down, hungrily. "Yeah, you do."

*********

The next morning they were roused bright and early at 6 AM, in both the East and the West Wings.

"Why must we get up so early?" Anna Fielding complained.

"Self-enlightenment waits for no one," Brother Roy explained.

After a hearty breakfast of water and a few spoonfuls of porridge, they were put to work, cleaning again. In the West Wing, Anson and Jessica were put to work scrubbing floors again. But in the East Wing, Jennifer and Wendy were tasked with wiping off the statues in the gallery hall.

They were the most detailed statues Jennifer had ever seen. And also, the most erotic. They showcased sculptures of men and women, completely nude. The women all had large, firm breasts with erect nipples, all made of stone. The artistry of the carving of their pubic hair and vaginal lips alone was simply top rate.

The men were also stunning, with big, manly chests, strong arms, firm buttocks, and... all had erections. Big, hairy erections jutting out of them. Jennifer thought that was odd, until she walked through the hall and saw even odder statutes.

There were other statutes, not just of men, or women, but men and women, in various states of sexual congress. One statue showed a woman, on her knees, as a man held the back of her head firmly, with his penis between her open lips. Another showed a woman on her back, in the classic missionary position, as a man thrusted between her legs. A third showed a man on his back, while a woman squatted just above him, the tip of him almost at her entrance. Yet another showed a woman on her hands and knees, with one man underneath her, another behind her, and a third in front of her, all engaged in simultaneous sex acts.

"Wonderful, aren't they?" said Sister Janice, with a big smile on her face. "But this one has to be my favorite," she said, indicating one of a woman, wearing a gag and handcuffs made of stone, restrained on a slab while another woman worked between her legs.

"What are these?" Jennifer asked. "I've never seen statues like this in a museum before."

"Nor will you ever," said Sister Janice. "These exhibits were commissioned by Brother Theo, to celebrate life."

"They look like they're celebrating sex."

"Is not sex a part of life?" Janice said, with gentle wisdom. "Now you girls have a lot of polishing to do. I suggest you get to work."

********

"I like that Brother Roy," said Jessica, as she and Anson dusted walls in the West Wing.

"Really?" said Anson.

"Yeah. He kind of resembles a priest I once dated."

"You dated a priest?"

"Sure, why not? Actually, at first I was dating someone else at the time, a guy... what was his name? Well, that doesn't matter. Anyway, he was religious. I remember attending Sunday Services with him in Stuttgart, and we heard the most beautiful organ music playing. It was the priest. His name was Hans," said Jessica, getting a dreamy smile on her face. "The music was spellbinding, Anson! I knew that I just had to get the hands that could play an organ so beautifully to play on my body in the same way."

"But I thought you already had a boyfriend at the time," said Anson.

Jessica waved a hand dismissively to show Anson what she thought of the other boyfriend. "So after services were over, I went up and introduced myself. Hans had the most beautiful sandy hair, like Brother Roy, that's what reminds me of him, I think. We started seeing each other. It was a whirlwind romance. I fell in love instantly. We had four blissful months together. Or was it five? It might have been five."

"So what happened?" said Anson, as he dusted the wall around him with a piece of cloth.

"Oh, it turned out we were incompatible," said Jessica.

"Why?"

"He couldn't have sex on Friday nights. Against his religion, he said."

"So?"

"So, obviously incompatible. I mean, what if I had a hankering for sex on a Friday? He'd never be available."

"You couldn't wait one day?"

"Do I ever have to wait a day with you, Anson?" Jessica asked.

Anson blushed, despite himself.

"By the way, that meat you loaned me last night was filling, but only for a short time. I'm going to need some real food soon, or I'm going to go crazy."

"I can't tell you when that will be," said Anson. "It's part of the process of stripping us down."

"Well, I'm hungry, and I'm exhausted. I feel pretty stripped down right now."

Anson looked over at Ron Fielding and his wife. Anna looked miserable, but Ron looked happy enough. He marveled at someone who could be happy doing such a simple task of dusting a wall. He wished he could be like Ron. If he could get the secret of life from Ron, he could bottle it and become a multitrillionaire.

As Anson worked, his mind started to wander, as one might naturally expect. He had been to Switzerland a number of times in his life, but the most notable time had been his very first time, 312 years ago.

The year he met Jennifer.

********

Anson wasn't the only one thinking of that fateful encounter. Jennifer, in the East Wing, also realized the significance of Switzerland, and was also thinking of her first meeting with her husband of 311 years. Her hand started to work on autopilot, polishing a statue's erect penis back and forth, back and forth, as she thought of her first fateful encounter with Anson....

They had both been students pursuing graduate studies at the University of Geneva, he at the Life Studies Institute, she at the Music Conservatory, getting her Ph.D. in classical composition.

He had heard her perform at a concert. At the time, Jennifer had been playing the cello. Although she was one player of thirty on stage, she had immediately caught his eye. She had gorgeous chestnut brown hair, set off by her sparkling blue eyes. Her face was a mask of determination as she worked the giant cello, but also mixed in with her musical fierceness was a little smile on her lips. The other musicians were focused on their efforts; so was Jennifer, but at the same time she multitasked enough to also enjoy it. Her loving smile, her love of music, her love of life, inflamed Anson, even as he didn't quite know why.

Anson had never been one to believe in love at first sight. He had had girlfriends, and sex before, of course; many times, by the age of 28. But he had never looked at a woman and felt the immediate reaction he did when he looked at Jennifer.

He had to meet her.

At the after-party, he sought her out. She was talking to another woman, but that didn't matter. Anson made a bee-line for her.

She looked up as he approached. Suddenly, he realized he had no idea what to say.

She smiled at him.

Why did Jennifer smile at him? Anson was young. Anson was handsome, with dark brown hair, a masculine face, and light blue eyes. Why not smile at him?

The smile was all he needed.

"You were wonderful," were Anson's first words.

"Thank you," said Jennifer, feeling a chill down her spine.

"I loved your unique approach to the cello," said Anson.

"There were five others besides me on the cello, how could you tell?" she said, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

"You played with real feeling. Your cello playing had extra grittiness to it, extra musical texture."

Jennifer's jaw really dropped. She had been thinking the same thing. How had this handsome hunk known that? "Thank you..."

"Anson," said Anson. "Anson Ford." He extended his hand.

"Jennifer," said Jennifer, extending her hand. "Jennifer Spaulding."

When Anson took her hand, he felt electricity shooting through it. Then he bowed his head and kissed it, ever so gently. Jennifer's jaw dropped in shock and surprise.

Jennifer's woman friend, who Anson had paid zero attention to, smiled and said, "I think that's my signal to go. See you later, Jenny!"

"Jenny?" said Anson.

"To some," Jennifer said.

"To me, you will always be Jennifer," said Anson solemnly.

And the way that Anson said that made a chill go down her spine, in a way none of her boyfriend Andre's flirtations ever had.

They talked into the evening. At the end, Anson asked for her comm number.

"Anson... I don't know how to tell you this, but... I already have a boyfriend," said Jennifer. She recognized she had immediate chemistry with Anson, but... she was already taken.

"I don't care," said Anson immediately. "I want you."

"Aren't you listening? I'm seeing someone else."

"I heard you. But I still want you," said Anson. And he said it, not like a stalker, but a man, firmly in love. Jennifer could tell the difference immediately, and it floored her.

Jennifer, her mind in a daze, gave him her number, not sure what she was doing.

Anson commed her the next day. And the next. And the next after that.

Each time the answer was no. She couldn't, she simply couldn't! It wasn't fair to Andre.

But Anson kept calling.

Jennifer was exasperated. "I keep telling you no. How long will you keep calling me?"

"Until you say yes," said Anson.

Finally Jennifer agreed to meet him for coffee at a cafe. She was wearing a very loose blue dress, disguising her firm 34-B cup breasts on purpose, so she would not incite his lust. But she might as well have been wearing a transparent plastic bag. To Anson she looked gorgeous. Her dress perfectly matched the color of her eyes. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her, but he had to restrain himself.

Instead, they talked. Jennifer told him what brought her to a career in music. Anson was surprisingly empathic. He understood how Jennifer felt she could express her feelings through music. "You were great at it. Some day you're going to be one of the greatest classical performers on the planet."

"Oh, you're such a flatterer," said Jennifer, blushing.

"You will. You will be a tremendous concert pianist."

"Pianist?" Jennifer had only recently started taking up the piano, with just such an interest in mind. "How... how could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you," said Anson.

That made her curious about this brash man majoring in Life Studies. She soon learned he was about to launch a career as something called a Fixer, someone who would solve the most difficult life problems for high-paying clients.

"But how? How will you do it?"

"Intuition," said Anson. "A fundamental understanding of people."

Jennifer looked at him with wonder. She realized how special he was. He had a talent that no one else had. And she was seeing him here, at the beginning of what she was sure would be a remarkable and famous career.

They talked long into the evening. But Anson didn't push things. Jennifer agreed to meet him for coffee again the next week, and then the next week after that. She didn't tell Andre. Obviously Andre would not understand.

But as Jennifer got to know Anson better and better, she began to see Andre in a new light. He was wonderful; he was training to be a classical composer; they had a lot in common; she had been in love with him for some time.

But next to Anson... her relationship with Andre started to feel... flat.

And then, one night, when Andre was making love to her, it happened. He was kissing her, hugging her, petting her, and then he got between her legs, and started the mating ritual that they both enjoyed so much.

But as Andre plowed inside of her, it was not Andre's face she saw, twisted in pain and pleasure above her.

It was Anson's.

The next time they met at the cafe, he must have seen it, in her eyes. Or maybe it was her dress. She wore a lower cut red dress, one that showed off the tops of her breasts. Just a little.

At the end of dinner (for they were eating meals together now, and yet Anson still had not asked for so much as a kiss), Anson asked if she would like to go dancing that Saturday.

"At the Grand Ballroom," said Anson.

The Grand Ballroom! "No," said Jennifer, shaking her head. "No... I...."

Anson put his hand over hers. He didn't say please. But his eyes did.

Jennifer felt herself getting wet between her legs. Biting her lips, she nodded.

Jennifer spent two days shopping for a dress. When Anson came to pick her up, he looked so handsome, wearing an old fashioned tuxedo.

"Jennifer," he gasped.

"What's wrong?" she said.

"You look... so beautiful," said Anson. Her dress sparkled in the light. It was white, and yet also had many strands of colors embedded in it, which changed depending on how the light hit it. And Jennifer had been bold enough to select one that showed cleavage. For the first time Anson could see the inner sides of her breasts. They looked soft and creamy. Jennifer felt thrilled whenever she saw Anson steal a glance at them.

They went to the Grand Ballroom. The orchestra, a real orchestra, was playing 18th and 19th century classics. Jennifer was a little nervous. She hadn't danced in a while. But in Anson's arms, she fell right into it.

She felt hypnotized by his smile. The entire world around them seemed to disappear, except for Anson, his smile, and his arms. His light blue eyes were like alpine lakes. She seemed to fall into them. The music seemed to be a bridge, a bridge for them to walk on, and Anson seemed to be escorting her across it. Hours passed, but to Jennifer it felt only like a few minutes.

It felt so natural to be in his arms. Looking into his gentle blue eyes, Jennifer shivered, deciding she never wanted to be anywhere else.

And then, outside, near the parking lot, by a stand of palm trees that were beautifully lit by yellow spotlights, Anson turned to her, and said, "You were incredible," and Jennifer knew the time had come, and she was so tremendously excited, and she smiled and leaned forward, giving implicit permission, and then Anson, ever so gently, pressed his lips against her, and the soft but insistent pressure of his lips was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt, feeling shooting pleasure from her lips to her vagina and beyond, down to her feet and toes.

When Anson took her home, Jennifer blushed, and heard herself say, "Would you like to... come inside?"

And Anson, as cool as ever, simply nodded and smiled.

In their frantic state of passion, there simply wasn't much room for foreplay. Within the space of a few minutes they were both naked, on her couch, kissing and touching each other all over. Jennifer couldn't get enough of him; his arms, his legs, his chest, his face, his lips, his light blue eyes, his grip around her, his kisses, everything about him.

And then she spread her legs in the oldest invitation in the world, and very shortly after that he was inside her, but slowly, ever so slowly, exploring the new world he had been invited into very cautiously, savoring every moment, every inch. And then, when he was totally inside of her, and he leaned down to put his face next to hers, he said, "I love you," and she said it back to him.

Anson moved in and out of her so adoringly. But while she felt it most in her vagina, she saw it most in his eyes. As her body jolted a little with every thrust, she looked deeply in his light blue eyes, and saw they were full of love, full of adoration, and what she saw in them did more to arouse her than any thick seven inch penis ever could.

Afterwards, when they were lying in each others' arms, Jennifer said, "Promise me one thing."

"Anything."

She gripped him tighter. "Never leave me."

Anson looked at her boldly. "Never."

And Anson kept his promise, for 311 years.

*********

"Hey Jennifer, what are you doing?" said Wendy.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been smiling to yourself as you've been rubbing the same statue's penis for the past half hour. What are you trying to do, jerk him off?"

Jennifer, startled, noticed her hand rubbing the same statue's penis back and forth. She pulled her hand away.

"You were on Planet Nine, I could tell," said Wendy. "Were you getting in touch with your inner self?"

"No... not that," said Jennifer, hastily reddening, as she realized her nipples were hard and there was a certain wetness between her legs.

********

"Earth to Anson! Earth to Anson! Come in, Anson!"

"What?" said Anson.

"Have you heard a word I've been saying for the past hour?" Jessica asked.

They were both on their hands and knees, polishing some random hall in the West Wing.

"Sure," said Anson, resuming his polishing.

"Really? What was I talking about?" Jessica asked.

"Ahh....."

"I'm tired of this!" said Jessica. "We're now on our second day. We haven't gotten enough food, or sleep, and I'm exhausted. How much longer are we going to keep up this slave routine?"

"We're signed up for a week," said Anson. "You can't expect to connect to your inner self in less than two days, can you?"