The Prometheus Invasion Ch. 09

Finally, they stopped. Dana lay on top of Lance.

"I said back on the island I wasn't going to leave you," said Lance.

Dana picked her head up off his chest and looked at him.

"I just want you to know that I meant every word I said."

Dana stroked his hair. "I ... love you."

Each of them realized they couldn't stand being away from the other. They didn't know how or why; that didn't matter. They didn't say it, but they had decided they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

Nearly an hour later, there was a knock on the door.

Dana quickly got under the covers of the bed. Lance got up off the bed and went to the door, getting behind it so the visitor wouldn't see any more of Lance than his face.

Lance opened the door a sliver. The visitor was Athena.

Lance opened the door wide enough for Athena to get inside, then shut and relocked the door. Athena looked at Lance's naked body, wide-eyed.

Lance and Dana looked at each other, thought the same thing, and smiled.

Dana got up from the bed and started nuzzling Athena's neck, pulling off Athena's clothes from behind, fondling Athena's breasts as soon as they got free of her blouse.

Lance pulled off Athena's underwear. Dana got from behind Athena to lay her down on the bed. Lance dove his head down between Athena's legs as he had with Dana, but with Dana joining him. The two licked Athena's vaginal lips, their tongues touching each other, then pushed inside Athena, making her climax in less than a minute.

Dana then got up and pushed Athena's legs wider, then resumed licking Athena, sticking her ass out. Lance got the hint and entered Dana from behind. Every time he thrusted inside Dana, Dana's tongue thrusted inside Athena.

The room filled with screams and moans of sexual release — Lance inside Dana, Dana because of Lance, and Athena because of Dana.

Lance stood behind Dana, who was kneeling on the bed above Athena's sprawled out form.

Dana leaned back and breathed into Lance's ear. "She wants you," she said. "Make love to her." Then she stuck her tongue in his ear for emphasis.

Lance lay on the bed, his erection pointing toward the ceiling despite his recent orgasm. Dana kissed Athena and then guided her onto Lance's groin.

Athena sank onto Lance and arched back. Dana nuzzled her neck and fondled her breasts from behind. Athena turned her head to give Dana an open-mouth kiss.

Lance grabbed Dana's hand and pulled her toward him. Dana swung around and crouched over Lance's face. She felt Lance's hands on her hips and lowered herself carefully onto his face.

Dana felt Lance's tongue on her clitoris. She leaned forward and hungrily kissed Athena. Dana could feel the vibration of Athena's high-pitched whimpering every time Lance thrusted upward.

The room again filled with screams and moans of sexual release — Lance inside Athena, Athena because of Lance inside her, and Dana because of Lance tonguing her.

The three of them finally drifted off from their fog of bliss to sleep, Lance flat on his back, Dana draped around one of his legs, Athena around the other, Lance's arms around each of them. Athena and Dana held each other's hands and Lance's penis.

EPILOGUE -- 2005

On a sunny late summer day, the couple stood at a grave site.

"I'm glad the kids can't see us doing this," said the woman. "This is an unusual way to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary."

"When you're married 50 years, I think you're entitled to celebrate any way you damn well please," said the man.

The couple was in their 80s, but looked no older than 60. The woman had flowing platinum blonde hair, and the man had thick white hair. Their tan skin was marred only by smile and laugh wrinkles. Their only concession to age was his hearing, which he blamed on listening to too many jet engines.

In front of them was a newly installed grave marker:

MANVILLE

Dana L., M.D., Ph.D. • Lance J., Ph.D., D.Eng.

1927-20__ 1925-20__

Married September 3 1955

Parents of Aithousa • Logan • Dagny • Darian • Lydia

για πάντα μαζί

"Not bad," said the man. "Not many people get to see what their gravestone looks like before they're buried underneath it."

"Seems like an unnecessary expense since we're not actually going to be buried here," said the woman.

"You're supposed to a marker somewhere. Besides, they already think we're eccentric. I'm sure they know of no one who has owned a car for 52 years."

"Or have a gravestone made out of aircraft-grade aluminum."

The couple had other reasons for their children to think they were eccentric. Their children had regaled their friends for years with stories of catching their parents committing the unforgivable sin of having a sex life. Their children's friends were fascinated at their stories of walking into the bathroom and seeing them in the shower together. Or of hearing their parents' bedroom door open, followed by splashing noises coming from the swimming pool in the middle of the night. Or of coming home from school and hearing sounds of passion coming from their bedroom when they were supposed to be at work. And then Lance would leave saying he had forgotten something at the house.

Fifty years, she thought — 18,263 days. At the rate of twice a day, that would be 36,526 times they'd made love. At least.

The stories their children told about them were the children's version of the aura of Mr. and Mrs. Manville, or the Doctors Manville. Their children could remember no instance of their parents arguing or yelling at each other, slamming doors, or giving each other the passive-aggressive silent treatment. They rarely raised their voices at their children, only to avoid some sort of catastrophe.

For five decades, everyone who had met the Manvilles as a couple would remark, sometimes enviously, how in love the Manvilles seemed to be, how harmonious they seemed together. And they were rarely seen separately in public, particularly now that they had retired after working deep into their 70s.

Lance still designed airplanes and other things on his computer — though he knew little about architecture, he had designed the house in which they had raised their children.

Dana was working on another book. She had delivered speeches on her books at universities across the country, always accompanied by Lance. They had traveled frequently to the Caribbean and to Greece since their children had left home.

Dana knelt down and put her hand on the first name in the next-to-last line. "How can we possibly explain this to Logan and Dagny?"

"We have a will," said Lance. "The whole story's already in there. Athena may have already told Darian and Lydia anyway. Actually, I'm sorry I'm going to miss the reaction when Logan and Dagny learn that the kids who visited them for years were their half-brother and half-sister."

The will also gave directions that upon their deaths they were to be cremated and their ashes spread in the Atlantic Ocean 231 miles east of Nassau and 154 miles north of San Juan. That would reunite them with their oldest daughter.

"Aithousa ... do you still think about her?"

"Of course I do." The man helped the woman stand. "She was our first child."

For no particular reason, he kissed her. He saw a tear form in one of her eyes, and wiped it away.

"How often do you think about ... all of that?"

Lance paused. "Every once in a while, something will remind me. ..."

He paused again. "That is, beyond seeing your voluptuousness."

Dana laughed and pulled him to her. They kissed again. "I love you, Mr. Manville."

"I love you, Doctor." He paused. "It's funny, isn't it? This might have been the most extraordinary thing that's ever happened to mankind ... and we can't tell anybody about it. It's all Top Secret."

"Who would believe it anyway?"

"You're probably right," Lance said. "Remember when General Grover said it sounded like a bad science fiction story?"

Dana laughed. "But too crazy to make up."

"We better get going," said Lance. "I think the kids are waiting to surprise us."

They walked arm in arm back to the old Cadillac.