Archive-name: JourEntr/j477-030.txt
Archive-author: Elf Matheiu Sternberg
Archive-title: Unmask!

 
Journal Entry 030/0477
 
     "P'nyssa!" I perched on the edge of the g-tube to the bedroom.
"Can I come down?"

     "Don't come down yet!" was the answer I got.

     "I'd like to use the bathroom!" I shouted.

     "Use the one next door!  Just don't come down here!"

     I grumbled to myself about women and their incessant need to take
forever to dress.  "Dave," I said, addressing the household AI.

     "The door's unlocked, Ken."

     "Thanks."  I walked back to our tiny kitchen and opened the door
the P'nyssa's old quarters next door.  When she'd moved in with me she
started to use it less and less, so eventually we just moved all of her
stuff over into my quarters and closed up.  I suppose that someone else
could have used it over the years, but nobody ever asked for it.  After
Richard and P'raine were born we used it as a nursery, but that had been
years ago, and although P'nyssa and I have discussed children since
then, we haven't gone ahead with the idea.  Don't know why.  Someday,
though, we will again.  We'll have to.  It's too much in her, and I
think it's too much in me, too.  But at the moment the room is empty;
the walls are bare metal; all the natural wood paneling and stonework
and wallpaper are gone; the kitchen appliances are quiet and dead.  The
lights came on minimally as I walked in and I felt confident in using
the gravitics tube to the downstairs bedroom.

     Downstairs was more of the same.  The room was completely deserted.
The bathroom didn't look familiar.  At one time Richard and Rainy's
toothbrushes had been on the sink, the soap sloppy everywhere, towels on
the floor, absurd science-fiction wallpaper on the walls, but not
anymore.  I wanted to call it a restroom, the distinction being that a
restroom is an efficient place for quick operation; a bathroom is a
place where one is most Human, or Tindal, or whatever.  One does not get
into the shower of a restroom to fondle one's partner lovingly, but that
certainly happens in my bathroom.

     I quickly relieved myself and made my way back out.  I wondered
idly what I could do with this extra space, but soon moved on.  I hadn't
done anything with this space in decades; there was no reason to change
now.

     So I soon found myself back in our own quarters, waiting on the
living room couch for my lover who had taken so long to get ready.  It
finally took me by surprise when I heard "I'm ready!"

     I waited for her to come up through the hole in the floor, and when
she finally rose to full height and the support field snapped on
underneath her my jaw hit the floor.

     "What do you think?" She asked.

     I was stunned.  She wore white, everything bright, clean white.
And nobody wears white like P'nyssa.  The contrast with her indigo blue
fur was perfect.  She wore 4cm high heels, which while not drastically
high it's high for her; she's the sneaker type.  Her pants were bleached
white form-fitting denim, but not tight around her legs, and she wore a
full shirt with silver cufflinks and studs, white bow tied with silver
band, and a perfectly cut full-tailed tuxedo jacket that I guessed was
doeskin.  Her only piece of jewelry was "Dragon", the polished pewter
earring I'd given her three centuries ago, in the right ear.  Her black
hair had been teased out to frame her face and fell over the white
leather in magnificent contrast.

     I fought for my voice.  "Uhm... Uh... You look wonderful," I
finally managed to say.

     She smiled.  "I hope I have that same effect on the rest of the
party tonight."

     "You should wear that more often," I said.

     "If I wore it more often, you'd get used to it, silly.  And I
certainly don't want that."  She laughed quietly.  "You look wonderful,
too."

     "Do you really like it?  It's not too militaristic?"

     "What?  A Fleet Uniform?  You're a full commander; you deserve it. 
And the blue and and white go well with me.  We'll make quite a striking
pair tonight."  I chuckled back in response.

     I brushed what was left of my hair into place.  P'nyssa had
insisted on cutting most of it off; if this was to be a masked ball then
I had certainly be more incognito then usual, and for the past hundred
years or so people had been seeing me in long hair.  "If you'd cut any
more off, I'd be bald."

     "I left you plenty.  And it'll grow back.  A year from now it'll be
down your back, and you know it."  And I did know it; everything on me
grows fast; hair, nails, and unfortunately, teeth.

     "By the way," she continued, "how do I look?"  She took the light
leather mask and put it over her eyes, adjusting it so she could see.

     I laughed.  "What's so funny?" she asked.

     "You look like P'nyssa Traken."

     "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "I mean, you look like a Traken, sweetheart.  The white leather
just covers up the albino patches around your eyes.  Okay, your patches
aren't as big as the mask, and they don't come together over the bridge
of your nose the way the mask does.  And I suppose every Tindal there
will be wearing something similar, but it does make you look like...
you, or some other fem in your family."

     She smiled.  "Good.  Just what I wanted."

     As we walked toward the SDisk, that comment ran through my mind
over and over, and as it did, it became more and more cryptic.

     When we got to the party, I was sure there was more to it than just
my natural paranoia.  Richard and Susan had decided to throw their
fourth-century anniversary party in truly grand fashion, and the Reedhon
Castle courtyard was positively packed with people, all dressed in the
strange to sublime.

     I was enormously pleased to see that most people had gone the
formal masked-ball route, and only a few had gone to truly costumely
lengths, although those that had had chosen historical formals  to go
to.  I even saw a few people in Heinlein full formal, and they looked
comfortable, which made me comfortable.  The masks went from the simple
eyepiece (like mine and P'nyssa's) to full headresses.  Despite the
nature of the party, I did not see Uncia wearing scars they did not
deserve, but the number of people in drag amazed me.  Fashion on Pendor
is much slower than on other worlds, but it has some definable patterns,
and at present there were very set male and female fashions; people at
this party were going out of their way to achieve androgyny.  Apparently
P'nyssa had caught wind, with her very feminine tuxedo.  I saw Felinzi
with complete watercolors airbrushed into their fur.  Mostly Taoist
themes, too.  Seems Tao and Zen had taken Felinzi culture by storm the
past two years.

     But what made my curiosity go sky-high was that I saw not one, or
two, but at least five Tindals wearing the exact same thing P'nyssa had
on.  At first I had thought I was just seeing Nyss over and over, but I
saw two of them talking together, and neither of them had the earring.
Well, they had earrings, but not "Dragon."  And one of them was most
definitely male.

     Dinner was okay; I think the poultry was a tad under-done, but then
maybe I got an Uncia's plate by mistake.  Can't expect the caterers to
get everything right.  But my dinner companions were pleasant enough; to
my right was a Markal fem named Tavvi with a ton of piercings in her
large rodentine ears, and to my left a femSsphynx whose voice reminded
me of a young lady I'd once known only by the name of Fading Breezes.
Unfortunately, I had no opportunity to get to know either of these
ladies very well since I was situated across from an apparently just
post-adolescent angry-at-the-universe-in-general Centaur who recognized
me and my uniform and seemed quite intent on pestering me.  It was all I
could do to concentrate on teasing the Markal under the table, tickling
her very exposed thigh.  I'm glad the miniskirt is back.

     After desert (and some incredible double entendres' from the
Ssphynx, considering it was only cherry pie a la mode), I advised the
young Mel that when he grow up he volunteer for the Fleet before opening
his mouth.  He took affront to that, predictably, and I fully expected
the phrase "affaire' de honor."  But he passed.  Lucky him.  It's been a
while since I've picked up any sort of sword, but I've got a lot more
years on the boy, and age and treachery and all that rot.

     I danced for a while with the young Markal lady, and she was intent
on teasing me with her tail, which kept coming around us.  I found her a
wonderful dancer, and let her lead.  After a while, though, there was a
soft tap on my shoulder, and one of the "Tindal Clones," as I'd started
to label them, stood behind me.  "May I have this dance?" she asked.

     Her voice did nothing to give her away.  She was almost completely
unknown to me.  I suddenly recognized another reason behind the tuxedo;
it covered everything, and I couldn't get a clear look to see any of the
familiar fur patterns that sometimes mark a Tindal.  But there was this
niggling thought in the back of my mind that told me I should damn well
know who this was.

     She was experienced on the dancefloor, and she took my breath away
with her sensuous hips and white gloves.  I enjoyed the music pouring
through the room and the feeling of her body pressed against mine when
the music slowed.  And she proved to me, once and for all, that anyone
can tango if their partner is good enough.  Because I cannot tango.

     We sat and drank champagne, telling outrageous lies as we were
allowed by the masked ball.  She told me she was a geologist for the
Fleet; I told her I was an explorer, once with The Eldarfaroth, but now
living quietly here on Pendor.  We exchanged tales; both of us had
helped Hall-walkers.  She was born before the 'Opening'.  I told her I
was born in 52, she said 68.  Basically, I think we lied through our
respective teeth.

     But her company was comforting and pleasant, especially after that
damned Centaur boy, and I was getting a little high from the alcohol and
leaned over to kiss her.  She acted as if she had fully expected that,
leaning into the kiss and opening her mouth against mine.  I replied,
inviting her tongue into my mouth, feeling it against mine but not
really concentrating on how or where it went.

     "I know of a few empty rooms in Reedhon Castle, if you'd like to go
someplace more private," she said.

     I gave it all of one second to run through my brain.  "Of course,"
I said.  "After you."

     She stood and took my hand in hers, leading me past the crowds
clustered around the various hors d'oeuvre tables and champagne bottles.
We made our way into the sideroom, which held mostly the more tired
partygoers, sitting around quietly talking or communicating in more
physical, but undemanding, manners.  The doors were opened to the
outside, and I saw two Centaurs walking through the garden that I swear
had been made for occasions such as this.  Down the hill the river
trickled by.  She (I had no name for her yet, but she still seemed
familiar) led me up the creaky wooden stairs to a small hallway that I
had to duck under to get through, and down a slate stone hallway to a
large wooden door with a very typical doorknob.  We walked in and the
lights came up slowly, soft white light from several candles
illuminating a room done in winecolor.  The floor was still slate, but I
knew it would never be cold under my feet.  The centerpiece to the room
was a huge four-poster bed with canopy.  There was one large mirror.  A
small door led off to what had to be (and I had to call) the garderobe.

     She closed the door behind her as I crossed the room to the bed.  I
sat down and she walked to me, leaned over and kissed me again.  I
reached up to ruffle the fur at her neckline and was surprised to feel
something else under the cloth, something that felt like a collar, the
more erotic kind.  I wondered if she had a master or mistress somewhere
who had put her up to this.

     She must have noted my attention, because she said quietly, "You
may undo me, sir, but not the collar or the mask."  Well, that answered
my first question, the one I wasn't going to ask aloud.  I reached up
while her mittens slowly stroked down my back and one at a time removed
the silver studs from her shirt and undid the tie.  The collar
underneath was a thin wide band of black leather.  I opened her belt and
pants as she stepped out of her shoes.  The jacket and shirt fell to the
floor, and I pulled her down to the bed, making it easier for me to
strip off her pants.

     Even if she was someone's slave, she wasn't mine.  She pushed me
over and down onto the bed to show me that fact.  "Lie down and relax,"
she said in a calm voice.  She swung one leg over my chest, straddling
me facing away.  I had a clear and magnificent view of her buttocks
before she slowly sat down on my face, obscuring my vision completely.
She pulled her legs in tight to block up my hearing, as well.  "Lick
me," she said.  It sounded more like a plea than a command, but it was
to be obeyed, and I did, opening my mouth as far as I could and reaching
out with my tongue to slide it over her clit and up into the fleshy
depths of her pussy.  She leaned forward, clearing my eyes a little, but
all I could see was her furry buttocks and back and the canopy of the
bed.  I did my best to lick her in that awkward position, and I felt I
would drown; she was very wet.  I also had to breathe through my mouth
since my nose was completely covered by her ass.

     My attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of the door being
opened.  Aghast at being caught in this awkward position, I tried to get
the young fem's attention, but she held my arms down and said, in that
same calm voice, "Quiet."  The other person came in and touched my leg,
running a mitten (yes, mitten... another Tindal) along the material of
my uniform.  She addressed my pleasant captor and at least identified
herself as a her.  Great.  I smell a rat, and her name is P'nyssa.

     The other reached under the diagonal clasp of my jacket and
unzipped it.  I heard a small expression of frustration, and I guess it
was that the shirt for the uniform is a turtleneck.  She turned to my
boots and removed them, then the socks.  She opened my pants and slid
them off.  At the moment I was unerect, but she curled her mitten around
my cock and began to stroke me, very slowly, sliding the skin up and
over the head and then back down, and soon that was rectified.  There
was a shuffling, and then the new one straddled my legs along with the
first, except I could feel her feet back along my legs and I knew she
was facing my captor, who was not paying much attention to my needs and
was occasionally cutting off my air supply.  I found it frustratingly
exciting, especially since I was now completely volunteering for this.
If I weren't, I'd have fought them off and left a long time ago.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get me into this bed, and my
curiosity, not to mention ego and libido, were piqued.

     The other one (I wish I had names!) slid up and took hold of my
cock, coming down and sliding me into her.  I felt her warm cunt
surround me and her full weight came down onto my hips.  The bed creaked
underneath us.  The one I was eating got up for a second, giving me a
clear view of yet another Tindal In White Leather, still wearing her
shirt and jacket.  My original paramour turned around and straddled me
facing the other way, for which I was grateful.  She even reached down
and held herself open, giving me much better reach of her clitoris.  I
licked and nibbled her cunt, trying to give my all to her, and she
apparently found my talents acceptable, because she was very soon coming
in loud, shaking orgasms.  She allowed me to lick her to four orgasms,
all coming in a row.  The Tindal over my cock was determined to not let
me forget about her, and began to slide insistently up and down, sighing
each time as I began to thrust my hips upward.  She and I developed a
rhythm that became easier as we went on, my cock sliding into her and
then back out.  My captor backed away a little from my head, but still
blocked my view of the other, who may have been P'nyssa, for all I saw
of her.  My cock surged and tightened, and then finally, I came in a
scream, pushing up into her, trying to get deeper, be engulfed by her.

     The one sitting on my chest, the original, put her mittens over my
eyes, and the other got up and left, slowly and calmly, as if she had
all the time in the world.  Then the one left got off of me, leaned over
and whispered, "When I leave, take off your shirt and turn over onto
your belly.  Close your eyes.  If you're tired, take a nap."  She leaned
over and kissed my cheek, then picked up her clothes and left, as
unhurried as her friend.

     When she left, I got out of bed, stretched, and decided that it was
worth it to find out what was going on.  I removed my shirt, pulled down
the covers and lay on my stomach, like she'd asked.  The room was
comfortably warm, and I decided against crawling under the covers.  I
closed my eyes and tried to relax.  I kept thinking about my captor; who
was she?  And, damnit, I felt like I should know who she was.
Eventually, I did fall asleep.

     I was awoken by the feeling of warm, strong mittens on my back.
The mittens were vaguely oiled, and the person astride my buttocks
proved to be an experienced masseuse.  I lay there, enraptured by the
warm sensations of the massage as my unknown benefactor slowly rubbed my
neck and shoulders, working out the few kinks I had.  I groaned as the
relaxation reached my brain, filling me with that sense of well-being.
I trusted her, whoever she was.  "Thank you," I said quietly.

     "Your welcome," said the masseur.  My eyes popped open, but I saw
nothing; the room was pitch black.  That was a male voice.  However dark
it was, I was still tempted to turn around and look, but I decided
finally that that wasn't going to be helpful, and lay still where I was.
He leaned down and whispered into my ears, "You know what I'm going to
do when I'm finished with this rub?  I'm going to take the oil and oil
myself up and then I'm going to fuck you, Shardik.  How does that
sound?"  His voice was achingly familiar.

     I groaned.  "Go ahead," I whispered.  "Everyone else seems
determined to do that tonight."

     He chuckled.  His strong mitts continued to loosen my back, and as
he spread the oil over my buttocks my excitement returned.  He was
professional in his massage, however, leaving my butt when he was done
to caress my legs, the backs of my knees, and my feet.  As he did my
feet I sighed again, really enjoying his work.

     He let my foot drop to the bed.  From the smell I'd guess I was
still in the same room; the bed had the scent of sex and velvet.  He
never lost touch of me and I lay with my head on the pillow, eyes
closed, waiting.

     He straddled my legs, and I felt the furred back of his mitten
against the crease of my butt and I could tell he was oiling his cock,
stroking it to a full erection.  "Ready?" He asked.

     "Yessss," I whispered.  I felt the head of his cock nudge between
my buttocks, searching.  His other mitten reached under us to feel for
my asshole, and the two came together.  He pressed his weight ever-so-
slightly, and I let him in, I let my ass give way.  He sank into me, my
asshole expanding and then closing as the head slid by, feeling the
silky length of his dick slide past my opening and fill my rectum.  I
closed my eyes and joyfully felt the weight of his hips crushing my
buttocks, his legs moving between mine, spreading them.  He supported
himself on his tens.  He slowly withdrew, and the feeling was mind-
blowing.  Then back.  I don't know if I had an erection, and I didn't
care.  I just wanted to be under him, to be his.

     He grunted as he fucked me, my ass taking his all.  He began to go
harder, and I responded.  "Yes," I said.  "Just like that."

     He laughed, and slowed down.  "I want to make this last," he said. 
He wasn't being gentle, just slow, jabbing into me with every thrust.
It was wonderful as he fucked me.  He lowered himself, his chest against
my back, his breath against my neck.  He pressed his forehead against
the back of my neck and laughed quietly.  His mitts wrapped around my
shoulders.  He began to speed up, his breathing in time with his hips,
and he began to slam against me, harder and harder.  It was wonderful; I
wasn't going to come, but it may as well have been me.  I was wrapped up
with him, and his cock stroked my guts, my insides, and when he finally
came I shouted in joy with him.

     He rolled off of me and the edge of the bed, standing.  I no longer
felt him against me, until he leaned over and said "There's one more
coming."  He kissed my back, making the muscles tense up again slightly,
and then he left.

     I waited, and the time went by slowly.  I wondered if I was up to
whatever was next.  My ass twitched wonderfully in response to the
ravishing from the male Tindal.  I smiled.

     The door opened and the last one was female. She was dressed as the
others, in the white denim and leather, gloves and mask.  She walked in
and over to me.  As she closed the door, the candles lit by themselves. 
Nice theatrics, I said to myself.  She stood in front of me, looking as
delicious as the others, and said "Are you up to one more?"  Her voice
flooded my memories, and it all came back to me.  I laughed aloud.  I
know who you are, I know who you are, sing-songed through my head as I
looked at her.  I know who you all are.  I laughed aloud.  Wait a
second, there's one missing.  Maybe I'll find out later.

     "What's so funny?" she asked me.

     "That's a funny question," I replied.  "Of course I'm up for one
more."

     "Then help me with my clothes," she said, holding her tens out.  I
reached for her cufflinks and removed them, while the hand she had free
opened her shirt.  I slid the soft jacket off her shoulders, and she sat
on the bed, topless.  I scooted further onto the bed, and she joined me,
and I reached down for her boots.  I pulled off the left boot and took
her foot by the ankle, lifting it to my mouth.  I gently kissed her big
toe, then moved on to the other, shorter and broader small toe.  I
licked both with my tongue, enjoying the taste of sweat on her pads and
in her blue fur, running back down along the arch to her heel, tickling
her.  She laughed and squirmed to my touch, and I shifted feet, taking
off the other boot and licking that one as well.  She giggled and rolled
on the bed, and I made my way up her calf, nipping and biting.  It's
hard to lick furries, since I get all that hair on my tongue, but she
seemed to like my biting, especially when I turned over and got under
her knee.

     She sighed as I reached her cunt and with my right hand idly
brushed the fur out of the way, exposing her pink flesh.  This time it
was my control, and I was determined to enjoy it.  I love eating cunt,
and she was sweet as I probed the first time, thrusting my tongue into
her vulva and parting her lips, sucking her outer lips into my mouth.  I
was being rather rough, but she seemed to be enjoying it, and I decided
not to change tactics.  I spread her lips with my hands and dove in,
surrounding her clit with my lips and licking directly, hard.  She
moaned a soft, "Yes, just like that," and I nodded an enthusiastic
little nod.  I sometimes dipped my tongue into her cunt, just to taste
her sweet juices, but always came back to her clit, licking with a
varying rhythm that just kept getting harder and harder.  She ran her
mitts over my head, and she came in a wonderfully noisy orgasm.

     "You liked that," I said.

     She nodded and said, "Let's see what I can do to you," coaxing me
back onto my back and taking position over me, taking my cock into her
mitts and leaning over to take me into her mouth.  She was talented,
taking my cock deep into her mouth and sucking hard.  I closed my eyes
and enjoyed the feeling of her ministrating to me.  She suckled my cock,
keeping me hard, but oddly never really getting me much closer to orgasm

     There was a sudden rush of cold air over my cock and balls, and I
opened my eyes.  She had stopped, and said, "I want you to make love to
me, Ken."

     She crawled on her knees to the edge of the bed and, facing away
from me, took each of the posts in her mitts, holding herself up in a
semi-leaning position.  She turned her head towards me and through her
mask the yellow eyes seemed to twinkle a little.  "Take me," she said.

     Encouragement I did not need.  I came up behind her, on my knees as
well, and aimed my cock, wet and slick with her saliva, at her cunt.  I
grabbed her hips and pulled her towards me, sliding into her as her hips
joined mine.

     My cock drove deep, and she moaned as I fucked her.  I used my arms
and my hips, pushing her away, then driving back deep into her, pulling
her towards me.  I looked down, watching my cock driving in and out of
her cunt, the pink lips and blue fur and wine bedsheets all blurring in
a chiariscuro of sex, and my cock responded to all the stimuli, becoming
harder as I drove in and out of her.  "That's it, take me," she said
again, louder.  "Fuck me Ken!" she shouted as I pounded her, slamming
against her buttocks.  The bed creaked as the force of my ecstatic blows
was absorbed through her body by the bedposts.  I could feel my orgasm
building, and she said, "Fuck me, come for me, come on for me," and I
screamed as my body exploded in orgasm, every vestige of self control
lost, every last ounce of strength flowing out of me.  I sighed, dropped
my head in exhaustion, and fell back onto the bed.  I watched her sag
against the footboard, but then she raised her head high and turned to
smile at me.  She crawled over to me, kissed me on the forehead and
said, coyly, "The unmasking is in half an hour.  Don't fall asleep!"
She laughed, crawled off the bed, and like my previous lovers, left.

     I lay there for a few minutes, then groaned to myself as I got up. 
There was a glass of cold water on the bedstand, and I drank it down,
completely ignoring the question of where it had come from.  It cooled
my parched throat and I could feel the cold water as it shocked it's way
down to my stomach.  I felt... refreshed.  I went into the garderobe,
glad to see it was pretty standard, relieved myself and combed my hair
back into place.  I dressed and realized... nobody had ever taken my
mask off.  I'd had it on all this time?  I don't remember...  Wow, talk
about being preoccupied.

     I laughed, finished dressing, and headed for the door.  I looked
both ways; the hallway was deserted.  I headed back down to the stairs,
noted that the sideroom was mostly deserted, and headed back for the
masked ball.  Inside, people were winding down, dancing slowly.  Even
the band looked a touch worn out.  I noticed the contingent of six
Tindals in White Leather, four of whom, the four I'd been with earlier,
with dates at their arms.  The mix was pretty typical, and now that I
had a clear count I knew who they were... P'Rose and P'Lissane had been
the first two, then Richard, and finally P'Maya.  P'Rose and Lisa each
had eager Tindal males to their sides.  P'Maya's date was a femSsphynx,
which made me remember a letter I'd gotten from P'nyssa while I'd been
in space, and Rick's date was the adorable Markal I'd been dancing with.
Talk about being set up!

     Richard and Susan came out and stood on the balcony over the side
of the great hall, and there was a squawk from the speakers as they
turned on the PA system.  Susan gave a standard "I'd like to thank you
all for coming," speech, and then Richard said, "And now, it's time to
unmask."

     The ritual cry went up from the great crowd assembled, "Unmask!
Unmask!"  I turned to my captors as a whole and said, "The jig, so to
speak, is up, guys."  I took off my masks as they took of thiers.  Every
one of them, excepting Richard, had the characteristic Traken markings
about their eyes.  Males don't get it.

     I looked at them all, and waited for somebody to say something.
Other than Tavvi thier dates looked little confused.  I had just, in
very distinctive fashion, been on the receiving end of four out of five
of P'nyssa's children.  Not to mention being ravished quite effectively
my own son!  I turned to the two remaining, P'nyssa herself and P'raine,
and said, in what must have sounded like a desperate voice, "What is
this all about?"

     They cracked up laughing.  "It's about you, Ken," Pnyssas said.  "I
was talking to Rick and we started to talk about the party, and you, and
it just sort of... happened.  We all agreed to it, just for fun."

     I smiled wide, so wide I felt the muscles in my face strain, and
said, "Yeah, I've had moments like that myself.  Pretty elaborate,
sweetheart.  Thank you."

     She hugged me tight and said, "You're welcome.  But we have one
more surprise for you.  Do you know what tomorrow is?"

     I ransacked my brain for ideas; what was tomorrow?  The day after
Richard and Susan's anniversary, Lotesse 3rd.  Lotesse 4th?  "Oh, no," I
said.

     "That's right.  Tomorrow's your birthday, Ken, and Rainy and I have
decided that you should have the two of us tomorrow, starting right now,
since the party here is over."

     "P'nyssa... I can't sleep with both of you in bed."

     "Why not?"

     "Well, for one thing," I said, turning to P'raine, "you're my
daughter."

     "You were perfectly willing to let your son have at you," P'nyssa
said touchily.

     "Okay, I admit..."  I did enjoy it, and I felt not one touch or
twinge of guilt about it.  "Okay, let's try it.  But just a second," I
said, holding up my hand.  I turned, one after the other kissed P'Maya,
P'Rose, P'Richard, and finally, P'Lissane, and bid them goodnight.  And
for me, there is no such thing as a friendly kiss.  I distinctly felt
Lisa's toes curl.  "Goodnight, all."

     They all wished me goodnight, and with P'Nyssa on my left and
P'Raine on my right, mother and daughter and (adoptive) father in the
middle we bid Richard and Susan a good night and teleported home.

     I hope P'Raine wasn't too disappointed by my insistence that we
head to bed, but I was tired, and from the looks they were giving me,
they were too.  We went to bed.

--
"Unmask!"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., And Related Tales
are (c) 1989, 1992 Elf Matheiu Sternberg.  May be freely distributed by
cybernetic media; hardcopies are limited to single printings for
personal use.