"72 hours of immersion" (or, "Happy First-of-winter festival!") by GrandMoff
This story features female, male, and intersex (futanari, hermaphrodite, or whatever term you use) as well as homosexual, pansexual, and heterosexual characters. This story is fiction. Any character's resemblance to anyone is coincidental.
Part Four: The Psi factor
oOOOo
The buzz of conversation in the bar-and-grill restaurant hushed when we entered. It continued at its normal volume after a pause. I couldn't help looking around, hoping to see someone naked, like me. Nope, there was no one.
When I'd used the telescope yesterday, I'd seen people who were in my position leaving and entering places of business. I took comfort in that. I was having lunch with my friend; I took comfort in that, too.
But sitting bare-assed in a booth, waiting for our lunch order--I hadn't expected this to happen in my life! Actually, I'd intended to dress, but when I had asked Harkje if I could borrow some clothing, she'd talked me out of it. She had explained that I was less likely to have our meal interrupted if I stayed naked a bit longer. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? It wasn't as though I hadn't put myself on the radar of half the town already.
I suddenly wanted to cross my arms in front of me, rest my head on the table, and have a breakdown.
Harkje must have seen at least part of what I was feeling. She put one of her hands on top of mine and rubbed it. "Maybe you would like to meet Dr. Tomassov?" she asked me.
I hadn't expected that offer. "Yes," I said.
"I will try to find her so we can talk," said Harkje. "Maybe we can see her today or tomorrow morning."
Shortly after our food arrived, a person I hadn't met came to our table. She was a pretty woman, possibly in her late 20s. She had shoulder-length dark brown hair and a pleasant face. She looked at Harkje for only a second. Harkje scooted over for this newcomer, who sat across from me. Harkje looked a little uncomfortable.
The brunette stared straight at me. I didn't get everything she said (of course) but I understood her tone, and some of her words. "Nice to meet you. You are the one my girlfriend has been spending her nights with," I thought she said.
Harkje immediately began to talk (trying to explain why we had been staying together, I supposed) to this woman, but I ran fingers along Harkje's wrist and hand, quieting her. "It is nice to meet you," I said as best I could in the local language. "Harkje is been a friend to me. She helped for me." My grammar was bad, but I was sure that I'd spoken well enough that she knew what I meant. "My name is Xi-Lin."
"I am Qenefvere," she said, extending her hand to shake mine. Then she said something I had a very hard time understanding. I glanced at Harkje, hoping she would notice my trouble.
No luck: my tall companion wasn't looking at either of us at the moment. I decided to give Qenefvere the truth about my abilities. "I do not know this language goodly. Can you talk as in Reykjavik?" I said hopefully.
To my surprise, the brunette's face relaxed, showing less suspicion. "I don't speak like from Reykjavik well," she told me, using pretty decent standard Icelandic. "But okay. I asked, you visiting our village for long?"
I grinned gratefully at her. "Not long. Today and tomorrow," I told her.
She sat down across from me. "Surprised me that you don't join festival right away. You loving sex, but not that much?"
Harkje snorted; I could tell she had turned her attention back to us and found her girlfriend's question funny. "I didn't know about the festival. I came to hear your language."
Qenefvere obviously doubted me. I couldn't do anything about that, so I didn't try. Our sandwiches had just arrived, so I wouldn't have done much more talking anyway. Qenefvere ordered a cappuccino and a potato-and-fish dish I hadn't heard of. I was mildly surprised; she stayed with us through lunch.
When we finished, I decided that it was my turn to do the surprising. My plan, the plan that had formed in my mind while I'd slept, called for more action. If I could shock Qenefvere, that would be a bonus.
I put my hand on her wrist and leaned forward. In common Icelandic, I quietly said to her, "Do you want to have some fun?" I put my bag on the table and rummaged through it. Then I tilted it toward her, discreetly displaying the glossy black dildo I'd concealed under the condoms.
Harkje looked almost as surprised as Qenefvere did. (Good--it served her right for not mentioning her significant other to me!) The brunette woman considered her answer. "Yes, we have fun," she said. She gave me a strange little smile. "You did not coming here for the festival, you say?"
"I didn't," I replied. I ran my foot along her lower leg under the table. "The festival started while I was visiting; but this is an opportunity!"
I leaned forward again and Qenefvere leaned closer to me. "Would you like Harkje to have fun with us?" I asked.
Her odd smile grew a little wider. She shook her head.
The two of us sat back. "Will you two come to see me at Ms. Garrikoet's home before midnight?" I asked them.
Harkje had been looking at us a little sourly, but she perked up and said, "Yes, of course." Qenefvere agreed.
I took Qenefvere's hand and pulled her up behind me. Since we were both standing, I had my chance to note her size. She was my height or slightly taller. Her shoulders were wide; her hips were modest; her ass looked compact under her tight skirt.
Harkje was right behind us. She split to the right and headed back toward the library while we continued straight ahead. If this festival really meant what I thought it did, Harkje wouldn't be mad at me for having sex with her girlfriend. Or (I hoped) she wouldn't be mad at me for long.
Back outdoors, I remembered the cold. I hadn't noticed it much earlier. Since I was more tired and had less adrenaline in my system for this second interlude, I began to seriously feel the chill. Goosebumps rose on my skin, but I reminded myself that exercise would make me warm again.
Qenefvere and I went to one of the cushioned table-and-bench set-ups that had been placed near the side of the road for festival purposes. The way Qenefvere turned, clasped my hands, and looked into my eyes, I realized that she wasn't just humoring me. She actively wanted me to have sex with her.
And when she kissed me, I found myself wanting the same thing. She smelled kind of like berries. Her lips were soft and wonderfully smooth.
The cute brunette shrugged herself out of her long coat. Taking this as a signal, I hiked up her skirt and ran my finger along the cleft between her legs, over her panties. She unbuttoned her flannel shirt and shimmied her shoulders, making her well-formed breasts bounce against each other. I slid my hands along her torso and grabbed her tits.
She wasn't very good with any language I spoke and I wasn't good with hers, but we didn't need words. She coaxed me into a 69 position with me on the bottom. We lay on the top of the table and started licking each other. I had the dildo in my right hand, and I used it to prod at her vaginal entrance every so often. She tugged her panties aside, inviting me to stick the tool inside her.
A reasonably muscular salt-and-pepper-haired naked man approached us. He hesitated for a moment, standing and watching while he stroked his erect penis slowly.
He made up his mind. He stood next to me and asked, "Can I put my cock in your pussy?" (I didn't get every word, but that was the gist of his question.)
"If you use a condom," I told him, glancing and nodding at the bag I'd set on the bench near us.
Whether my wording was perfect or not, he understood me perfectly. His eyes darted back and forth. To my amusement, this was a difficult decision for him! "Can I use your anus without a condom?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
Qenefvere wasn't put off by the the middle-aged man's dick joining her at my lower regions. She'd apparently heard our exchange. She kept eating my pussy while the newcomer fingered me to get some juice to lube his cock. I was glad that he seemed experienced at anal sex; he took his time and gently pushed his rigid penis into my ass. While he was doing that, I got serious about penetrating Qenefvere. Carefully, I pushed the black dildo into her cunt, going about a cm deeper with each deliberate stroke. Her thick labia glistened with her tangy syrup; strong-smelling, but kind of addictive. I continued using my mouth to stimulate her clit as best I could while I worked the dildo in an increasing tempo.
I was worried that I might not be doing well--I'd never had a lesbian encounter except for one drunken episode in my last year of high school--but the way Qenefvere mashed her face farther between my legs and clutched my butt tighter and tighter while she worked on my cunt made me think I could be doing well after all. As for the guy who'd joined us, I was doing a good job of working my hips against his and arching my back to give his cock head greater stimulation. I didn't think he'd be disappointed in my performance. I wasn't disappointed in his; he employed short, powerful, smooth strokes, making my backside feel tingly. His penis was pleasantly hot and thick, contrasting with the serious chill of the outside air.
But both of these competent lovers didn't make me feel as satisfied as Harkje had. I found my mind wandering to her. I wondered if she would get much pleasure from cunnilingus--and if she would smell and taste similar to Qenefvere. I wondered if she could have an orgasm from her girl parts without her boy parts having one sympathetically. I wondered if she'd let me fuck her with a dildo, the way her girlfriend had.
Suddenly, I felt Qenefvere's pelvis starting to tremble. Her pussy was getting a little sloppier. I turned my attention back to her, hoping to give her a great climax. I was very inexperienced when it comes to licking clit, but I was pretty handy with a dildo. Besides that, part of my mind buzzed with wicked joy: I was fucking two people: two people I'd just met. It didn't even feel like it was me doing it, in a way. I imagined how I must look to passersby. Mouthful of pussy, assful of cock, thrusting and slurping while flaunting my naked body in the middle of town--
--Qenefvere panted and twitched as she came. I kept working doggedly at her pussy. I couldn't really enjoy causing her orgasm because mine suddenly hit me, walloping me right between my legs, leaving me gasping. I worked my hips like I was taking out a wine cork: twisting in a spiral, then pushing backward, giving the guy behind me an eventful ride. His fingers flexed, pinching the thin flesh above my hip bones. He groaned and pulled himself securely against me. I enjoyed his lower torso's warmth. He finished with a few very strong thrusts and pulled his cock from my ass. The cold breeze made me very aware of the thin trickles of semen that dribbled out of my anus and oozed between my cheeks.
Qenefvere climbed off the table and gently took my arm. She and the man helped me sit up. They each gave my mouth a lingering kiss.
More townspeople had arrived. There were maybe 100 people in the village "square" now. Half of them were enjoying the festivities with others, but half were watching--and probably waiting. My threesome had attracted quite a few onlookers.
No time to have a panic attack: two clean-shaven and one bearded man were approaching me. "I'll see you before midnight, Xi-Lin," Qenefvere said to me, forgetting herself and using the local lingo. She gave me one final kiss and straightened her clothes.
The three guys were wearing thick mid-calf socks and leather shoes. Each one looked eager for a turn. Rather than let myself think about this situation, I acted. I pulled a condom from my bag and held it up. "Use a condom if you want my pussy, please," I said as best I could. They all seemed to understand.
The tallest guy was wiry and wore gold-framed glasses. He winked at me, took the condom, unwrapped it, and expertly rolled it to the base of his very firm penis. He and the bearded man each put a hand on one of my shoulders and eased me onto my back. (I idly thought how unnecessary it had been for Qenefvere and the earlier guy to help me sit up!) The third guy was blond, with a pair of blue anchors tattooed on his lower abdomen. He fished for a living, no doubt. He kissed me lightly, lips-to-lips, then straightened and presented his half-hard cock to my mouth. I didn't keep him in suspense; I put my right hand around his shaft and took his cock-head into my salivating mouth. I felt the other two men running their hands along my thighs. While I stroked and licked the tattooed guy, I felt the bare penis of the bearded guy prodding my asshole. An instant later, guy with the condom rubbed his cock up and down my vaginal slit, then shoved himself deep into my wet cunt. His friend was right behind him, thrusting solidly into my ass.
I'd seen this in one or two internet videos, but I'd never given much thought to how it felt. It was pretty uncomfortable--the skin of my perineum felt stretched, getting tugged back and forth--and unbelievably dirty! I tried to keep my mind off the two cocks I was taking in my pussy and my backdoor by concentrating on blowing the third. I moved my fingers lower, to the man's delicate ball sack, while I urged his dick further into my mouth, almost to my tonsils.
The smell reminded me of the way Harkje's smooth penis had smelled when she'd popped off her condom and her shaft was slick with her sperm. I found myself wondering how virile she was. If her smell was so similar to a man's, would her taste be also?
Whoa, I thought. I'm in the middle of three guys--and I'm wondering about Harkje. I'm thinking about how her kisses felt. I'm remembering her kindness and her selflessness. I'm hoping I get a chance to suck her off so I know how her semen tastes.
How could I be thinking about her?
If I hadn't had a cock in my mouth, I would have shaken my head. I put more of my mental energy into satisfying the guys who were with me. Mm, the two behind me had gotten their timing more or less in unison. The resulting sensation was growing more pleasant; thanks to the close proximity of the two dicks, there was more indirect stimulation. My clitoris appreciated that. I kind of hummed around the head of the penis in my mouth and I lazily rotated my tongue around the glans.
The guy took his hands from my head and put them on the tops of my shoulders. His fingers tensed. The cocks in my ass and pussy were starting to feel excellent to me. I knew the guy I was blowing was going to shoot his load...but I was caught up in the festival. I backed off only a bit, keeping the fisherman's cock-head between my lips, sliding my tongue up and down the dilated slit at the tip.
The guy in my ass grunted and came. He sped up his thrusts and for a moment I felt a little tugging pain, but the other guy quickly adjusted his speed. The fleeting pain vanished immediately and the lovely pressure in my lower parts grew even more.
I put my fingers back around the exposed shaft of the guy I was sucking. Using my lips and tongue, I began to milk the head of his penis.
With a sharply uttered word, (it was probably "Fuck!" or "Damn!") the tattooed guy finally gave in to my fellatio. I was experienced enough to raise my tongue. Deflecting the jets of cum so they didn't splash the back of my throat, I wouldn't gag.
The bearded guy pulled out of my butt. The sudden loss of warmth and the friction of the cock pulling past my sensitive rectum hit me with another amazing sensation. Now that there was more room, the man with the glasses doubled his pace. I sighed around the mouthful of seed and the tip of the penis I had yet to release.
The fisherman gently wiggled his softening cock from between my lips. A thick rivulet of semen and saliva bubbled from my mouth. I held the rest in my cheeks and took a deep breath. I swallowed the salty, musky mixture in one gulp, barely believing that I was acting this way. (Well, I had been several months without sex. Hell, I'd been several months without a kiss, or even a hug!)
I put my hands on the table to get more leverage and started thrusting my hips at the remaining guy. I felt an orgasm building--
--He pulled out. With trembling hands, he pulled off the condom.
I was a bit disappointed, but these three guys had made me feel pretty awesome. I didn't really mind that they hadn't made me cum. I kept smiling and giving the last man encouraging moans. He ejaculated on my smallish, stiff-nippled tits.
This time, only the fisherman kissed me. I wasn't surprised; the glaze on my lips was his, after all.
I was spent for the mmoment. The bystanders sensed that; they made no more requests of me. Instead, the three men I'd fucked helped me to my feet and the one with the glasses walked me the short distance to Ms. Garrikoet's house.
oOOOo
One hot, relaxing bath later, I threw on my robe and went to my room to study a few more local publications. I didn't dress; there were probably quite a few more locals who wanted to sample my goods.
To my surprise, I became engrossed in an archaeological journal. There were a couple of articles in it that talked about local Stone Age and Bronze Age peoples. They had often been tragically decimated by silent and invisible toxic volcanic gases. Discoveries in sediment layers had proven that sometimes volcanic compounds had even gotten into the flesh of the fish and livestock that the natives had eaten.
As I read the journal, I found an article that interested me even more. The piece discussed the myths of what had happened with early Christian missionaries to this section of the island, and what theories the archaeological record supported. I realized that this town was large enough and old enough to have several centuries-old churches, but I had seen only two churches, and both were no older than several decades. The article mentioned a site of hasty burials, likely from the early 1600s. Local pagans and Catholic missionaries and settlers had apparently settled their differences with bloody skirmishes. Had the groups banded together to repel Viking raids? Had they banded together to deal with blighted crops or unexplained cattle diseases? The journal article had no definite answers yet.
A knock on my room door interrupted my reading. I supposed that a hopeful lover or two had come to call. My pulse quickened. I'd had a couple of hours to rest; I felt ready (and some part of me felt eager!) to join the festivities again.
The curvy intersex woman and the lean man who had been interested in Harkje and me this morning greeted me at the threshold. There was another man with them; he looked 15 to 20 years older than his companions, with a well-tended grey mustache and a pierced nose and ears. He had love handles, but he looked strong and fit in spite of the little extra mass. All three of my visitors wore sturdy boots and tall socks and nothing else.
I smiled at them, grabbed my bag of condoms, and went with them to the village square.
The intersex and the older man sat facing each other on a wide, well-cushioned bench. The man took the condom I offered him; the intersex lady had brought her own. I understood about half of their talk, but I wouldn't have had to understand any at all to know what they wanted. I was to sit in the intersexed woman's lap and take her slender, lavender-hued cock into my pussy. The younger man sat in the older man's lap, sinking the wider, more veiny penis into his ass. The younger man and I leaned toward each other and kissed for a second. We began to bounce up and down on the dicks beneath us. The muscular young guy's hands gently caressed my breasts. I leaned forward a little more and returned the gesture, tenderly stroking his proud, erect penis. He groaned, put his arms around my back, and covered my neck with tiny kisses.
But this time, we were joined by a fifth person. A rusty-blonde-haired woman with wide shoulders and a thick butt strode hastily toward us. She exchanged words quickly with the two men. I got the feeling she was asking why they had started without her. The intersex grinned at her and welcomed her to our group. The men also seemed pleased to see her.
All four pairs of eyes focused on me abruptly. It took me only a moment to comprehend. This newcomer was clothed; she couldn't take part in our session unless we accepted her.
"Happy to have you!" I said. My accent must have been a little comical; the older man chuckled and the younger man smiled playfully. The rusty-haired woman opened her long coat. She was wearing a yellow, woolen one-piece dress, which she bunched around her waist. The men scooted back along the bench. I felt the voluptuous intersex put her hands on my tummy, giving me the idea that we should do the same. The woman in the yellow dress dropped onto her knees in front of me. Her head started bobbing over the young man's cock. I knew what she wanted, and I gave it to her: I slipped my tongue along the pretty pink slit that protruded between her upper thighs. The intersex lady beneath me pushed her pelvis upward, signaling me to start riding her cock again. I was happy to oblige. I dug my fingers into the clothed woman's plump ass and ate her out as well as my awkward position would let me.
Since there were five people involved, our fucking got out of rhythm a few times. It felt very good nonetheless. In particular, I enjoyed the smell of the tangy pussy in front of me and the feel of pulsing penis inside my slavering snatch.
Naturally, the young man came first--he was getting stimuli from inside and outside, so it made perfect sense.
I knew that our tryst wouldn't last much longer, now that one person had had an orgasm. I was determined to give an orgasm to the woman in the yellow dress. I took one of my hands from her ass and snuck it between her legs. While I sucked and licked her labia, I flicked my fingers over her partly-hidden love button. She got vocal, panting and muttering, "Yes. That's good; yes!" over and over.
My efforts were fruitful. The woman suddenly shoved her pussy against my face and rode out her climax. She wasn't very juicy, but I slurped her pussy energetically, hoping to excite her more.
I was free to deal with the sexy woman I was riding. I sat in her lap for a moment. I put my hand on her knee to get her attention. "Can I move? Can I suck your penis?" I asked her. I'd heard enough native talk to know I said every word correctly. I turned and made eye contact with her.
She said, "Okay, darling." (I'm not sure she said "darling" actually; it might have been "baby" or "honey" or something similar.)
With more than passing regret, I lifted myself off her slippery cock. I got on my knees in front of her and lunged face-first at her crotch. She barely had enough time to roll the condom off her shaft before I closed my lips around her very warm dick.
Now came the part I'd wondered about. I placed my fingertips gingerly on her hairless nut sack. I slid my other hand under the first. Propped on my forearms, tasting and teasing her slender shaft, my fingers carefully explored the area under her balls.
She hissed. I glanced up as best I could. Yes, that had been a hiss of surprise and delight. I smiled around her penis.
My probing digits found the very damp top of vaginal crevice. I worked my middle finger inside her pussy--
--She came much faster than I'd expected! Her pelvis thrust involuntarily, shoving her cock balls-deep in my mouth. My eyes watered and my throat tightened, but I managed not to gag. Her semen flooded my mouth. The smell was more pungent, or more primal, than the man's had been earlier in the day. The taste was a bit saltier, perhaps.
I pulled back from her penis, of course, but I managed to concentrate well enough to keep my finger working on her cunt.
She was breathing rapidly. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed feebly. I understood and gently took my hands away from her genitals.
She said something to me. I'm fairly sure it was, "Naughty bitch!" If not, it was what she meant. But she beamed with happiness while she said it. She put her hand on my sperm-dripping chin and urged me upward, into a kiss.
I hadn't seen it, but the man with the mustache had gotten off while I was doing my thing. The younger man and the clothed woman politely helped me and the intersex to our feet.
This time, I hadn't had an orgasm either, but this time it didn't matter to me at all. Sex with this group had been marvelous.
I looked around, wondering how many people had watched us. There weren't more than a half-dozen this time.
But one of them was Harkje. Standing with her was a woman who might have been in her late-40s or early-50s. She wore her coarse fuchsia hair in a bun atop her head, and black-rimmed glasses high on the bridge of her nose.
Harkje looked kind of embarrassed for me. The woman with her looked at me as though she was studying me.
"This is Dr. Tomassov," Harkje said when it was clear that the festivities were over. She handed me a red-and-black cotton handkerchief.
I was a little bashful suddenly--maybe because of Harkje's expression. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor," I said in common Icelandic. I turned away a little, trying not to be completely shameless about wiping the fluids from my body.
"I am pleased to meet you," said the older woman. She spoke Icelandic like a Reykjavik native. "I have time to talk with you now."
oOOOo
It was a short car ride to a sturdy building on the edge of the village. (The car was electric, and the interior was luxurious; it probably belonged to the doctor.) The building looked like an Alpine chalet, with a steep, high-peaked roof and many windows with wrought-iron frames. Inside, the building was completely modern. It was broken into three multi-level suites, and Dr. Tomassov led us to hers.
She took a bundle of papers and folders out of a chair and motioned that I should sit. I was very conscious of being naked in her house, but neither she nor Harkje even seemed to think about that, so I sat and tried to get comfortable on the pleather cushions. Our host cleared another chair for Harkje and soon we were all in a little half-circle. "You study languages," Dr. Tomassov said to me. "Maybe cultures as well?"
"Yes," I said. "This culture may be the most fascinating I've ever encountered."
The doctor looked happy with my answer. "Harkje tells me that you want to know more about kurouhd in particular." She pronounced the word strangely. "Ku-" sounded like the word "cool" without the final l and "-rouhd" rhymed with the word "good." There was heavy stress on the second syllable.
"What is 'kurouhd'?" I asked.
"It is the term for our mixed-sex or intersex individuals. The word is so old that I can't be sure, but I think it means "changed by Rouhd." Mt. Rouhd is the major volcano just to the West."
"Yes. Yes, I'm very interested," I said. "How can there be so many kuroohd? I thought intersex people are usually sterile."
"You have two different issues there, although you don't know it. In the wide world, intersexed people are fairly rare, but it is a very common myth that they are sterile. The vast majority of them are totally capable of pregnancy or causing impregnation. They usually have chromosome sets XX or XY, but their hormones have expressed their traits differently for any number of reasons.
"But that is not why you're here. You are here to learn about our people.
"Well, kurouhd are not like other intersexes. That discovery is what led me to study them exclusively. They have a completely unique chromosome. Chromosomes X and Y were named for their shapes: I call the chromosome I discovered 'Psi' because it resembles the Greek letter psi."
I looked closely at Dr. Tomassov. "How is that possible?" I asked.
Dr. Tomassov rolled her eyes. Sounding like a lecturer, she said, "I have been trying to answer that question for almost 20 years. My first theory was that 'changed by Rouhd' could be the truth. I think the Psi-chromosome is a mutation of the Y-chromosome. It could also be a mutation of the X, but I doubt that after analyzing so much evidence. When one considers all the strange sulfur and nitrogen compounds spewing into the air with the volcanic activity, it's possible that an individual's DNA was altered at a molecular level. Common sense suggests a developing individual--maybe a zygote or fetus who would have been male. The mother's placenta likely spared the unborn child a lethal dose of chemicals, but the mutation persisted, and even proliferated.
"Another possibility is radiation. I have had students and friends help me look for the earliest kurouhd: specimens, historical records, archaeological evidence, anything! If I am correct, they may have appeared about the same time that a very large asteroid splashed into the shallows of the ocean less than a km from our coastline. If the asteroid was moving slowly enough, and if it entered the atmosphere at the right time, there should have been an interval when cosmic rays penetrated Earth's magnetosphere and bombarded the vicinity. Cosmic rays have been neglected because of the expense involved in studying them, but they could credibly cause mutation, and in more than one individual, which would make propagation more likely.
"I lean toward this second possibility, but either is possible.
"And I have another theory that is less likely. In our foothills, there are isolated pockets of radium. Radioactive material has often caused genetic mutation. However, radioactive elements are fairly common throughout the world, yet kurouhd seem to exist only in our village and the surrounding area for a few km.
I shifted a little in my seat. "Those possibilities are interesting, but why wouldn't the kurouhd have spread, at least throughout Iceland?"
"You ask a question better put to a sociologist or an anthropologist," she answered. "I have a few ideas, but that is not my area of study."
Harkje knew Dr. Tomassov. Before things could get awkward or disturbing, she prudently steered the conversation onto a different path. "Would you like to see the Psi-chromosome, Xi-Lin?" the tall librarian asked.
Dr. Tomassov brightened instantly. I nodded. "I'd love to see it!" I was exaggerating a bit, but I wanted to be a good guest. Besides, I had many more questions and this scientist had at least a few answers.
The doctor escorted us to her main research room. "Stefvon, please pull up Psi: Slide Sequence One on the central monitor," said Dr. Tomassov. (I was a little surprised; there was an assistant scurrying around the lab. I had figured that no one would be working on research during the festival--but on the other hand, why shouldn't anyone? It wasn't like Oktoberfest completely shut down Munchen, for example.)
On the huge, flat-screen monitor, in high-definition, I saw the bluish-tinted image of the Psi-chromosome. In spite of myself, I was kind of awestruck. This tiny collection of genes was responsible for people like Harkje?
While various images of the unique chromosome cycled across the wide screen, I felt a tough but gentle hand on my shoulder. Dr. Tomassov was walking toward a work station, probably to speak with Stefvon. Harkje was taking advantage of the opportunity to speak with me. "You are fitting right in at the festival," she murmured. I couldn't tell, but I thought I heard both surprise and jealousy in her voice.
"And you would fit in if you came to my city," I told her quietly.
She squeezed my shoulder, but she said nothing in response. I hoped I was making her think.
"How do you like the look of Psi?" asked our hostess.
"It looks like a trident," I said. "But I'm still not sure how it works. Does it pair with an X, the way a Y would?"
The doctor said, "Half the time, it does. The other half of the time, it accompanies two Xs. In other words, both X/Psi and X/X/Psi produce kurouhd. These are the only combinations I have found, but I believe X/Psi/Y is also possible."
"I have seen several kurouhd. What is the difference between X/Psi and X/X/Psi?" I asked.
"There is very little difference. I am conducting more studies, of course. So far, I have found nothing significant but size. X/Psi average height and mass are 165 cm, 52 kg (5'5", 114 lbs). X/X/Psi average height and mass are 175 cm, 61 kg (5'9", 134 lbs). X/X/Psi kurouhd have great strength and stamina as well. Considering that the rare individuals who have X/X/X or X/X/Y chromosomes also have increased strength, the finding is not surprising. What does surprise me is that there are so many X/X/Psi. I am completely at a loss to explain that phenomenon. Much of my last five years of research has been devoted to discovering the explanation."
The question I really wanted to ask was right there, right on the tip of my tongue. But I didn't ask it. I didn't know why at the time, but now I think it was because I thought Harkje could answer just as well...and that she wanted me to ask her instead of Dr. Tomassov.
oOOOo
After an hour-long tour of the research clinic's facilities, Harkje and I told the doctor that we wanted to get back to town and find some dinner. She graciously drove us back to the center of the village.
I had a lot to think about. I went back to my rented room to put on some clothes and hopefully share a supper with Ms. Garrikoet and some of her other tenants.
oOOOo
A couple of times after supper, I had festival-goers come to my door. (One of the callers was Fehherok, the woman I'd seen in the tiny swimsuit when I'd arrived in the village. She had a strap-on and she wanted me to use it!) I had fun times with them, but I didn't get into the festivities the way I had in the early afternoon, because I was anticipating a visit from Harkje and Qenefvere.
Not long before midnight, Qenefvere and Harkje arrived at my room. I ushered them inside and offered them drinks.
When they were settled in the easy chairs and I was sitting on the edge of my bed, I spoke to them seriously. "Qenefvere, what do you do for a living?" I asked.
Harkje translated my question into the local dialect for her girlfriend. Qenefvere said, "I design. Plumbing, irrigation, things that involve running water." I understood enough of her answer that I didn't need a translation.
"That skill is in demand all over the world," I said, smiling encouragingly at the pretty brunette. "Have you ever thought of leaving this village, at least for a while? I would like to come here again soon to see you and Harkje. Eventually, I would like the two of you to come with me and travel."
Qenefvere listened to Harkje's translation. Her face showed reluctance, suspicion, and a flash of annoyance. "This is home," she said. "Our families live here."
"We will travel for only one week," I explained. Inside, I resigned myself to a long night of debating, discussing--even outright pleading and/or lying if it came to that.
oOOOo
End of Part Four
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