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Message-ID: <47629asstr$1083024603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Rumi Sylvestris <future_rumi@sbcglobal.net>
Subject: {ASSM} After the plague: Sheela's Party pt 2 (sci-fi, MF, mast, safe, slow, lots o' backstory)
Lines: 291
Date: Mon, 26 Apr 2004 20:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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30 years into the future...  
What happens on sunday morining after the orgy.

<1st attachment, "suitparty2.txt" begin>

After the Plague: Sheela's Party pt 2
(sci-fi MF mast slow rom and lots o' backstory)

I woke up sandwiched between Sheela and Susan.  Susan was softly
snoring. She told me once that her internship taught her how to sleep
soundly when she could get it.  I lay still examining the pale hairs on
her back, the change in color from the exposed nape of her neck to he
shoulders, light brown above, pale below.  Susan had said that mass
adoption of the suit 20 years ago had slowed down a peaking epidemic of
skin cancer.  Sheela coughed once, then squeezed me with a spare arm.  

Sheela had been a co-worker of mine for almost 7 years now.  We wrote
together, cried together, taught together, even shared a hotel room once
together.  This was the first time we shared a bed together though.  Of
course this was the first time I took advantage of an invitation to one
of her parties as well.  For a moment, I tried to guess which of the
dozen hands petting me belonged to her, but then thought better of it.
Best to enjoy the whole experience.

"We better hit the shower before everyone else does" she whispered in my
ear, she rolled out of bed and clicked her suit off.  The nanofabric
flowed upwards into her collar.  "You don't think Susan will mind if we
shower together?  Save a bit of water that way."

"She won't mind. Best let her sleep for now," I whispered, "she gets
cranky unless she has to run to surgery."

She smiled and put the collar down in its recharge/cleaning unit.  "You
go ahead," she whispered, "I'll be right in."  

Her bedroom had a small bathroom.  I shut the door a little bit to empty
my bladder.  Funny how that is one of those last bits of privacy that
you keep around.  I stepped into the shower and turned on the hot spray.
I was shampooing my hair when she stepped in.  "Dang Jim, how did you
get that?"  

"Got into a knife-fight with my doctor.  I lost of course."  She
laughed.  "Funny how those doctors are, I got this from Emily," she
pointed to a pale scar on her abdomen.  

"Where are Emily and Maya anyway?"

"Emily has a sleepover, Maya is on a trip to Philmont. She won't be back
until later tonight."  She yawned wide.  "Will you do my hair?" 
With her coaching I washed her hair, massaging her scalp, brushing a
comb through it to distribute the conditioner.  It was comfortable and
friendly.  The sexual energy of the previous night gone leaving a
pleasant familiarity.

She put on a different bodysuit.  The fabric flowing like liquid over
her chocolate skin, then tightening around her.  I had the same suit
from last night, and she handed me one of Bill's bathrobes.  "If you
don't mind, covering up a bit.  It helps to keep the orgy from getting
back started all over again."  She put on a cotton house-dress.

We left the bedroom, carefully closing the door.  Just about every room
we passed had two or three people sacked out on futons, mats, or
couches.  Sheela whispered in my ear, "It might seem a bit selfish to
keep a bedroom for myself, but I like having just a bit of privacy in
the morning.  I'll meet you in the kitchen."  

I stepped into the utility room and grabbed my own shirt and kilt off
the rack.  On a mat in the corner, a couple of men were sleepily making
love, lost in their own world.  I got dressed and then put Bill's robe
onto the hangar, not knowing what else to do with it.  

In the kitchen, Sheela and Chang were setting out plates of coffeecake
and bowls of fruit.  "Hey Jim, if you help clean up, you and Susan can
stay for dinner," she said.  She pressed a mug of coffee and a plate in
my hand.  "Lets go out onto the porch."  I loaded up a couple of slices
and followed her out.

A slight drizzle and chilly weather over the night meant there were no
sleeping or groping bodies on the rooftop garden.  We sat down on a
bench that offered a good view of the city.  The view kept getting
better over time as smog became more of a thing of the past.  "The kids
get back at three, so we need to get at least our apartment and Janet's
apartment back in order by then."  

I nodded, "So how can I help?"

"We got a nice system, one of us sees people to the door as they get
ready to go.  I ask something like, 'Pardon me, where were you sleeping
last night.'" and someone else goes out to check it out."  

"Do we need to get started right away?"

"There's no hurry, Chang can handle things for now."

We sat, sipping coffee and eating cake in silence for a bit.  

"I must admit Jim, I was surprised to see you skin to skin with Susan."  

"Yeah, it was, a bit surprising to me," I said.  Susan and I were just so
different in many ways.  Sometimes in ways that worried me.

"More for me," Sheela said.  I met Susan through a plain old dinner
party here over two years ago.  Susan rarely offered up her past and I
didn't probe.  Her past was a complicated calculus of shifting
relationships, and my past had Nell.  Sheela knew something.

I knew part of the story.  Two decades ago, bodysuits were just a niche
application of a new technology: scuba diving, competitive swimming,
space eva, hazmat.  Then suddenly doctors noticed an epidemic of fatal
time-bombs going off.  A new strain of HPV changed the big question of
cancer from "if" to "when."  Latent for 10, 15, 20 years, the new HPV
exploded with aggressive and devastating cancer.  

Why did this change the way we had sex when HIV didn't?  The ugly
answers were race, homophobia and geography.  AIDS was a disease of
queers and poor Africans.  The new HPV appeared among  moms, white
suburban moms with a history of serial monogamy back in the 80s and 90s,
heterosexual moms. 

Fortunately, (in a coincidence that inspired a few too many conspiracy
theories) a young gay virologist who was dating a nanotech engineer had
already been thinking about HIV in a way that cut the Gordion Knot. The
thick miracle suits that were being deployed by NASA could be slimed
down to a fraction of the thickness of latex without sacrificing
strength.  The properties that wicked moisture away from the skin were
tweaked to denature proteins, making the surface anti-microbial,
and anti-viral, (and deodorant as a result).  The resulting product was
both more comfortable and more effective than condoms.  Then they teamed
up with a friend who was using the material to build a better brassiere,
and another friend who mastered how to make them cheap.  

I would argue that the real genius was giving away the process of how to
make the material for free, but keeping the process of how to make them
in any color other than a milky gray.  Creating first truly comfortable
and universal barrier to sexually transmitted disease got them the Nobel
Prize.  Making it in fashionable colors and patterns made them
millionaires.  Paying sports stars and New Zealand movie royalty to wear
it made them billionaires.  

Meanwhile, millions of women died before the epidemic peaked in 2015.
Susan told me once about her mother.  Susan attacks her job as an
oncology nurse with an intensity that is sometimes scary.  She sat,
crying in my arms one night as she told me about her mother.  She
continued to bawl for 3 more hours until she agreed to let me slap a
tranq patch on her so she could sleep.  She still has a really bad day,
every few months or so, she still cries until 5 in the morning or she
asks for a patch, but she never talks about her mother.

I had been staring into my cup for a while.

"You know about her ex-husband, Graham?" Sheela said.

"Not much, I have my suspicions," I replied. 

She stared at her coffee while I waited, finally, I broke the silence,
"She caught him barebacking."

"Damn, you are good."

"Lucky guess," I replied.  "Just because I was monogamous for 23 years
does not mean that I was blind and deaf.  And this is not entirely new
to me you know.  The technology may have changed but the issues have
not. I think having unprotected sex with someone else might be the only
thing that would set her off."

We sat for a while, watching the view.  "So, I suppose it's back to
normal after last night?" I asked changing the subject, "It feels back
to normal now that one of us has talked about a relationship issue."

She put her head on my shoulder, "Jim, normal is a cycle on a washing
machine, last night was just a different type of normal.  Besides,
everyone in the department already thinks we've been flirting for most
of the last 7 years.  Getting all stuffy and professional, now that
would be weird."

For the rest of the morning, the time flew by.  I convinced Susan to
stick around and help out (without much effort). She had found a long
T-shirt she had left on an earlier visit. Together we made beds,
vacuumed rooms, packed up vibrators, tossed misplaced items into a lost
and found box to be.  We were never alone enough to talk seriously
though. Most of the guests were out the door by 11.  At that moment,
Carol, the sadist, started playing her music, on every speaker in
the apartment,  Barry Manilow.  A loud groan rose up from the group,
(even louder from the household) which led the remaining stragglers to
wrap up whatever romantic telephone number exchanges, morning quickies
and conversations they had going.  Carol and I were the only ones in the
house that knew the lyrics to "I write the songs," so we serenaded
everyone in the great hall karaoke style.  A soon as the last one left,
the stereo was switched to classic Banshees. 

"So you like Manilow?" I asked.  

"Maximum cheese for the note." She said, "great when you need to clear a
room."  Carol is closer to my age than anyone else in the household.
Sometimes during a party we ended up on our own, chatting about the
merits of 35mm flat projection vs. 3d digital or cds vs. sticks.

I ended up on the couch between Sheela and Tom.  Somehow, Susan was
drafted to help Chang fix what Sheela explained was "the real brunch."
Chang was a professional chef and insisted on rounding off the party
with a meal for the household and a few invited guests.  Bill walked in,
absent-mindedly took Sheela's hand for a moment, then passed by the
available space next to her to share an armchair with Rose.  Tom
pretended not to notice, I gave Sheela a quick glance and she mouthed,
"later."

We were boring, we watched TV.  Everyone in the room was drained from doing
safe with multiple people so we just vegged out.  

As usual with Chang, we sat down to a wonderful spread, blue corn
pancakes, refried beans, fresh tortillas.  We talked about the weather,
kids, a tiny bit of work gossip and current news.  Susan had told me
about the brunch, "after being involved with other people for a night,
it's nice to just sit back and be completely banal for a while."


Then back in front of the TV.  Again, Rose and Bill together.  Tom
yawned and excused himself and headed out to a bedroom.  Of course
Sunday afternoon television involved football.  This was one of those
things Susan and I didn't share.  She really got into football and I
learned not to get in her way (even if she was hogging my TV.)  In
between plays I found myself nodding off, only to be jarred back awake
by the others yelling.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Rose and
Bill start to slyly fondle each other, trying not to call attention to
themselves.  Sheela was not enjoying the game either, or the couple's
attentions.  I yawned again, during a commercial break, I excused myself
and said I was going to nap on the office couch.  

Just as I was about to get settled down, Sheela came into the room.
"Wouldn't you rather have a bed?  I could use a nap before Emily gets
back."  

Drowsy I returned to the bed I slept in earlier.  I noticed that the
sheets were changed, and the bed was freshly made.  I flopped onto the
bed, and Sheela flopped down next to me.  

"I hope that Bill does not think you are using me as a pawn or
something," I said.  Whoops, open mouth, insert foot.  If he was going
to get jealous, it would have happened last night.

"No," she said.  "Bill only sees Rose once a month anyway but still, I
had hoped that he and I could get some private time before the girls get
back." 

"I'm too tired to do much, sorry."  I apologized.  

"Let's just lay here together, Jim."  

She put her head on my chest and I absentmindedly stroked her face as I
dozed off, half asleep.  Through the walls I could hear Susan shout
"touchdown" and we both giggled.  In my partial slumber my hand drifted
into Sheela's dress, finding an erect nipple.  Then up to her chest.  

"Jim," she asked.  

"Umm, hrm?"

"Do you mind if I masturbate? I'm a bit wound up from last night and you
don't have to do anything, just what you are doing."

"No problem," I said.  "Mind if I watch?"

She giggled, I didn't watch but felt her breathing deepen, and her arm
move against my side as she stroked herself.  My hand found a breast and
I absentmindedly noticed that she was wearing a support suit.  The extra
thickness over the torso acted as a bra, but added extra padding under
my nipples.  After a long time, she hissed between her teeth and shook
slightly, her head rolling back and forth against my chest.  She leaned
up for a moment then laid back down.  I heard the low hum of a vibrator
starting up, then it was muted as she pressed it between her legs.
Through half lidded eyes I watched as she came twice.  I wondered idly
if her expression as she came would pop up whenever I saw her for the
next week.  

"TOUCHDOWN" a chorus of voices came from the closed door.

She twisted the vibrator off then looked down at my erection.

"I thought you weren't up for anything," she said.

She took me my mouth, but sleep won out over desire.  Without a word she
pulled a blanket over us and spooned around me.
<1st attachment end>


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