Chapter 6

It was only after months of soul-searching that Jenny decided to run for the office of Political Representative from District Six. She was a strong willed woman and had specific ideas about how the District should be run and why it was going downhill.

Once having made up her mind, however, she proceeded at full speed to make the necessary arrangements to enter the race. Before anything political could be done, Jenny had to go before the Character Control Board which would minutely analyze her subconscious to make sure that she was emotionally qualified to run.

She knew, also, that the Board would run her 994 file through the computer and the latter would present an erotic program which she must follow out in order to be a candidate.

Being basically a shy woman, and uneasy about the sexual adventures the computer would outline for her she was visibly nervous as she stood before the Board. She kept on telling herself that it would all be worth it the moment she was chosen to lead District Six out of the political morass it was in.

They kept her there all day, going over her records with her and asking her hundreds of minute questions. The answers she gave were transcribed on a tape and fed into the computer. Then the computer decided which part of her sexuality was disturbed enough to make her a possible advocate of war or other illegal activities. Once this part of her was isolated, the computer would help her overcome that sexual problem.

At the end of the day she was physically and emotionally exhausted. The members of the Board took their jobs quite seriously and they ceaselessly battered her with questions.

Relaxing over a drink, she shuddered as she recalled the questions they had asked: "What is your favorite form of sexual activity? When was the last time you masturbated? When you perform the sexual act, do you often feel that you would like to do something violent to your erotic partner? Do you feel that violence is related to sex?"

And there were many more, even more intimate, which she was too embarrassed even to think about.

Days passed and still there was no word from the Board. Jenny became more and more apprehensive. She felt that something had gone amiss.

Finally, after a week had gone by, she received a message that the Board would like to re-interview her. Once again she presented herself and once again the intensive questioning began. This time there were many more questions about her sexual activity as a child, questions which made her probe deep into her memory. They thanked her for her patience and sent her home. As she walked from the chambers she saw the demonic computer, absorbing her taped words like some prehistoric sea slug.

Another week passed and this time she knew that she was being called for judgment. She was happy to get it over with since the campaign for Political Representative was already set back and if much more time was allowed to pass she would have to withdraw. It would be a relief to get it over with one way or the other.

She stood before the Board. There were seven men in all and to be appointed they had to receive their Doctorate from the Venutian Academy which was one of the finest universities in their solar system. The Doctorate program in that desolate area required nine years of intensive study.

The chairman of the Board spoke to her:

"First, we all thank you for your patience in this area and we realize that you are chafing at the bit to begin your political career however, you also must realize that we must be careful and weed out any potential leader who shows subconscious signs of being a war-lover."

"I understand completely," she replied.

They put their heads together for a moment and began to whisper. Then the chairman said:

"You have been declared unfit for office."

She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as if the walls and floor of the room were descending. All the years of dreaming, of planning, of hoping all of it was down the drain.

"The computer," the chairman continued, "has diagnosed you as a latent war-lover, mainly because of certain unresolved sexual episodes in your childhood."

She began to leave. His voice boomed out behind her:

"Wait."

She turned and faced them hating them for their decision even though it was the computer which had condemned her. For some reason she always blamed the men and not the machines; she realized it was a failure in her thought processes but she had been unable to weed out that archaic thought pattern.

"You realize of course that it is possible to overcome this liability there is no reason why it should affect your political career."

Jenny knew what he was talking about the program the series of steps which the computer had programmed which would supposedly remove her liabilities.

She had to make a quick decision. It was, she realized, a small price to pay for her ambition. Yet, something in her past made her hold back some shred of aloofness which had always found the new order to be disillusioning.

"Come, come," the chairman impatiently chastised her, "this requires either a yes or no decision and we have many other cases to review."

"Yes," she blurted out and then felt immensely relieved.

The chairman took a card and read it to her. She could tell by the edges that it had come from the computer.

"You have unresolved and ambivalent desires concerning the sexual practice of oralism. Many of your dreams are concerned with this area. You will be given a two-part treatment, during which these desires will be resolved and you will no longer be a war-threat to the State."

He looked up at her from beneath arched eyebrows. She could catch the glimpse of a smile.

"It will take place in your home," he said, "so that no one will be aware of it. May I remind you that each of is sworn to secrecy."

Jenny went home feeling strangely elated, as if she had passed the most crucial test of her life; the ability to accept help. Her mind was on her future campaign and the various projects she would use.

A day passed and another day and still no visible sign of how the program was to be implemented. On the third day, however, she was wakened out of a deep sleep by the front doorbell. Pushing back the curtain she looked out and saw a conservatively dressed man, in his late forties, who seemed to be extremely bored. She opened the door and the moment he saw her, he said, laughing a little:

"I guess you know who I am."

She knew immediately and let him in.

"Where is the bedroom?" He asked.

She led the way back to the room, and he followed.

"Go into the bed please."

Jenny returned to the bed and pulled the covers up around her neck as she looked at the strange man. He was removing his clothes in a matter-of-fact way and placing them on a chair, making sure to fold them correctly so that no creases would be visible.

"The computer has suggested a two-pronged program and it is my job to carry it out."

He looked at her quizzically and then said:

"I never could understand why women want to go into politics."

Shaking his head, he sat down on the chair and took off his shoes.

Jenny was beginning to feel very uneasy, for deep down she had believed that it would be a romantic interlude but this man was the very antithesis of that he was cold blooded almost like a computer.

"Oralism. That's why I'm here and that's what you need. Now, Jenny, you don't mind if I call you that, do you? Now, there are two specific areas, or modes. There is the oralism which is subtle and sophisticated, which can transpose you quickly into ecstatic states, and there is the second kind; the kind that can tear you apart. Needless to say, I am un expert in both varieties."

He looked at her for a long while and Jenny felt her cheeks blushing.

"You think I'm mechanical, that I'm a robot-that I don't understand your feelings, is that not so."

She averted her eyes from him. he was almost uncanny in his ability to read her mind.

"I do my job," he said bitterly, "and I treat all women alike. But I love women, in their totality, as a specie, I love them more than any man you have ever met. I love them so much that I am unable to devote myself emotionally to one."

He began to amble on in that vein and she rapidly lost her sense of fear. He was intelligent and in an odd way, attractive.

Finally he caught himself up short as if silently chastising himself for talking too much and asked her to remove her pajamas and throw back the blanket covers. After a moment of hesitation, she obeyed.

He moved to the bed, flicking the end of the cover away as he sat down beside her. She was shivering slightly and he touched her naked shoulder:

"Now, now, there's no need for fear, there's no need for anything but relaxation."

His hand had a strange calming effect on her and soon she was breathing normally.

"The purpose of my visit is to bring you joy, among other things. I am not here to hurt you or to insult you, I am here to realize your fondest dreams."

His hands were cupping her breast and she closed her eyes. It had been so long since she had felt the assured grasp of male fingers biting into her white mounds.

She began to moan softly and his fingers moved down her body until they were rubbing the silken hair between her legs. She arched her body to derive the most pleasure from his fingers.

He was talking to her quietly:

"I know all about your dreams. I know what you want and I am here to give it to you, to remove the terrible inadequacies which are plaguing you. It is beautiful, it will be beautiful, you must accept it."

His face was between her legs. She felt a moment of panic but then controlled herself. His lips pressed against the lips of her vagina and she closed her legs about his head in horror. Slowly, patiently, he forced her legs open again, kissing the warm flesh on the inside of her thighs.

His tongue began to circle the outside of her flower, delicately playing with her lips, lolling on her flesh until it began to shiver. Her fingers reached down to scrape his bare back in her passion. The lips continued their almost religious caressing, going round and round until the gates of her vagine were coated with a thin film of love. She felt her whole body in turmoil and she cried out to him for more.

But then his tongue left the entrance and slowly but with magnificent precision, began to snake its way within her. She felt her stomach turn into knots as the strange weapon penetrated her. Once inside, his tongue began to slowly and beautifully slide over the hidden pools of her sex, darting gently, exploring, making concentric circles in her innermost passions.

She was sobbing, unable to bear the beauty, unable to bear the incredible ecstasy that his practiced tongue brought her. There was no violence, no swift movement, only the slow, sure penetration of her flower as if the most potent bee in the world was sucking honey from her flower.

Jenny's head seemed to be exploding into a field of bizarre flowers brilliant pinks and reds-deep purples and oranges all seemed to reach her senses. She opened her legs wider so that his tongue would have more free play.

The tip of the weapon felt like it was dipped in fire and then covered with velvet. Each movement, each gentle flick of the serpent brought her new joys.

Then, without warning, he withdrew it, and moved away. She held her hands up to him in desperation, calling for him to replace it, begging him not to leave her in the midst of her passion.

He sat beside her, his fingers playing with her nipples, and then, bending over, he took her nipple into his mouth, and his tongue, the same tongue which had blessed her, began to flick it back and forth. In the heat and glory of his mouth, her nipple grew straight and rigid and then began to vibrate and quiver.

She could scarcely breathe and her hands slid down him to grasp his maleness. But then he pushed her nipple away and kissed her once more on the mouth, sliding his tongue between her lips and playing with the roof of her mouth.

A second later he was between her legs again. Only now it was different, for now he would engage her in the second of the two part program, the part that would rid her forever of the disease of being a latent war lover it would rid her of the subconscious disease of violence.

The tongue slid in again and once again she squirmed her quivering buttocks against the sheet as she was impaled.

But then all resemblance between what had happened before and what was happening ceased. For, after a moment of respite, his tongue suddenly exploded in an orgy of motion. Instead of delicate motion, it began to make great sweeping movements inside her.

She was being pushed back into the bed. Each violent motion was like a red-hot brand being shoved up her womanhood.

Her legs kept closing against his head, begging him to stop, but the pace and fury of his tongue only increased. She felt burning and then cold, intense fire and then sub-zero frost the pools of love in her passageway were being sucked dry by the friction of his lance. He was sucking on her vagina with his full mouth as he wielded his tongue and the combination almost drove her insane. She began to beat him with her fists, crying and moaning.

Then a terrible shiver which moved through her body. She stopped struggling. Then-another movement in her muscles and he redoubled his effort. Inside, the explosion was brewing. Her fingers trembled as she relaxed and gave herself up to the violence of his tongue. Again and again, he thrust, he kissed the inside, he plucked her glories and he bruised her flower.

It came, terrible, bursting, total and she lay back without feeling, amost paralyzed by the most total and most fulfilling orgasm of her life. There was silence. She could see him get up and begin to dress but she couldn't speak. Her voice box seemed to have been removed.

He took out a pencil and a piece of paper and wrote something.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked, raising herself ever so slightly off the bed.

"Notes. I always take notes because I am required to make a detailed report."

He finished dressing, put his note pad away, walked to the bed and kissed her once on the forehead. Without another word he was outside the door.

Jenny felt betrayed, alone, disabled. She tried to get off the bed but couldn't. Finally, she pulled herself together and walked into the bathroom where she put her face under the cold water. The mirror was in front of her. She peered into it as if there was a stranger in the glass.

"Was that really what you wanted?" she asked the reflection in the mirror.

Then her thoughts went to politics and she began to prepare the campaign.