“I’m yours to enjoy,” I told Slate, to his apparent discomfort. “Would you like me to put on more clothing?”
We were sitting out on the balcony of my room, at the small table with a late lunch of enchiladas and red wine. I was in my lingerie - bra and panties - and he seemed to be interested in just about everything, but me. I, however, was considerably more interested in him than I believed I would be yesterday, or even when he picked me up this morning. Something to do with him snubbing the President of Mexico perhaps.
Like I’ve mentioned before, power is attractive, and I’m not immune. Whether this was from my change of perspective or just because I was now taking the time to enjoy him, I couldn’t say. Both, maybe.
His height and build were more than attractive, they were alluring. His platinum hair and Scandinavian good looks, bringing to mind the Czars of Russia, also appealed to me. His voice lured me in like few have done, and his hands were simply beautiful. Long fingers, perfect nails, no flaw of surface or shape. I wanted to feel them on me, exploring every curve and zone of my body.
Meeting my eyes, he said, “You had expressed some hesitation before. I expected to require your …”
“Permission?” I asked.
“Something like that, I suppose.”
“You have it,” I said. “I had a talk with myself, and was given a new perspective on this agreement we have. An agreeable perspective, which I’ve taken to heart. This came about last night, and I might have been more informative earlier, but I simply couldn’t. I was having too much fun. I apologize for it being at your expense, but I’m afraid I would do it all over again. So the apology isn’t worth much.”
The song on my laptop changed to Camila Cabello’s Havana, and the music fit my mood perfectly, and his appeal. I thought of nibbling on his earlobe while I listened.
He looked back out at the cityscape. “I also overheard there’d be benefits if I didn’t say anything stupid for a short time,” he said, returning his eyes to meet mine.
Havana, ooh na-na (ay)
“Ah,” I said, feeling none of the embarrassment I might have before last night. “Well, yes I did say that, didn’t I? I was hurt, and confused, and floundering within all of this,” I added, while raising my hands to encompass all of the newness these brothers have brought into my life. “Considering the expanse, and alteration of my world view, I think I did pretty good in adapting to you, your brothers and this position I have been selected for, don’t you? None of that was meant to suggest anything about you.”
“Good,” he said. “And yes, your adaption to the situation is remarkable. I expected at least a few days of uphill relationship building.”
“Let’s not confuse open, with downhill racing,” I said.
There's somethin' 'bout his manner (uh huh)
Havana
“No, no confusion exists there,” he agreed.
“So, should I put on more clothing?”
“No, I’m better now,” he smiled, leaning back, taking me in — with eyes performing all the motions his hands would explore soon.
“Good. Now, tell me about this Space Program idea I’m going to have which will fill el Presidente with wonder and motivation.” My curiosity was louder than my sexual urges at the moment, and the meal was wonderful.
He didn't walk up with that "how you doin'?" (uh)
(When he came in the room)
“It’s an idea to bring Mexico into the limelight, on the international stage,” he said, sitting forward, and starting in on his meal.
“Mexico to the moon?” I asked.
He smiled, and I noticed a slight dimple on his left cheek. The flaw on his skin seemed lurid.
“No, but likely as audacious. Have you given any time to the question of world level extinction?”
This was not the direction I thought we would go, but I considered the question, “Extinction? No. I’ve thought of post apocalypse scenarios, and some zombie apocalypse storylines, but not world extinction.”
“Consider the idea for a moment, if you would be so kind.”
Ooh-ooh-ooh, I knew it when I met him
I considered the idea, and came up with meteor strike or perhaps all of the worst nightmares of global warming. “Alright.”
“Do we, as the dominate life species currently on Earth, have any responsibility to ensure the continuation of life in our solar system?” he asked.
“We, as in you? Or humans, like me?” I asked, interested in his question, but also aware of his demi-god dragon-ish existence.
He frowned, but I felt it was in consideration of the distinction, as something he hadn’t considered before I brought it up.
“Interesting,” he murmured, “but for now, as humans. Mortals.”
Got me feelin' like…
I thought about this. “Life, as in human life, or just life?”
“Life,” he said, and I saw an approving smile trace his lips for a moment before his next bite.
I took a bite of the salad, and then changed forks, thinking over what he asked. Was there a responsibility to ensure life endured? If so, was it our responsibility? Typically, on the surface, this might have been a theological question. If life came from a creator, a god with the capital ‘G’ — God — wouldn’t this be his responsibility? Would it be presumptuous to assume we should be the wardens of life in the solar system? A question worth consideration, I felt.
As a practical question, sans the religious questions for the moment, since those were probably best left to someone else with more understanding of those challenging waters, perhaps we had some responsibility.
I cut into my enchilada. “As I understand it, right now we have the means of doing something to ensure the continuation of life. We have space travel. We know that life could survive in a couple of places in our solar system, besides Earth. I believe we are doing everything possible, however, not to contaminate those areas with life from Earth — while in search of life already present.”
“Do you believe those efforts warrant the risk of losing the opportunity?” he asked.
That was a tough question, if I agreed we had this responsibility. As a woman in my current social environment, the idea that I had a responsibility to procreate was challenged, and I didn’t believe I personally had that on my required to-do list. Of course, that could change, if for example the zombie apocalypse happened tomorrow. Faced with the extinction of my species, I might change my mind. My feelings right now were based on a world facing over population, widespread poverty, hunger and plagues. These were all good reasons not to add to the problem.
That to one side, the discovery of life on another planet, Mars perhaps, or one of the moons of Jupiter, would be huge. Having the assurance that it was not life from Earth, transported there or a mutation of life originating here, was of value as well. How valuable, I couldn’t fathom a guess. It would change many of our cultural beliefs and focuses. How many, and to what extent, I was also unqualified to guess.
A sudden insight hit me from my earlier readings. “You’re thinking to entice Mexico with the Aztec’s belief in exploration, like their voyages out into the ocean. That was big with them, in fact they believed that if a person drowned they went to Tlalocan, paradise. For them, that was quite the boon.”
He smiled. “You are as quick as rumor suggested.”
“As to the question, I’m not qualified to give an informed answer,” I said, suppressing my pleasure in him being as attracted to my mind as my breasts.
ooh na-na (uh)… take me back… Havana… oh, na-na, na.
“I’m not sure how someone could be qualified, but we are talking politics at the core, so your unqualified thoughts are desirable,” he said, his voice urging me with affection, and sincerity.
ooh na-na (uh)…
My plan was to have him leave tonight without bedding me, to increase his appetite, but my appetite was growing by the minute here. Another part of my mind, which I thought of as the sensible me, recalled a quote I heard back in college, ‘Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy, and go good with ketchup.’
“Well, I believe the deity we are looking for here is Quetzalcoatl, the feathered dragon. My reasoning is the memory of the seven-segmented Aztec ouroboros — Quetzalcoatl is sometimes portrayed biting his tail on Aztec and Toltec ruins. A symbol of continuance and immortality. This could easily be segued into Quetzalcoatl’s desire for active efforts to keep life, alive. Also, his desire for exploration. If presented in this format, I believe I would feel this is our responsibility, and our heritage as well. Aren’t we coming up on seven hundred years since the Aztec Empire began?”
He sat back, admiring me with a new look in his eye. “Yes, actually we are. Most authorities put their rise at 1345, so only about thirty years off, and that could be a real marketing point,” he said, but more to himself than to me. “Here I thought only to gather in an opinion, and find myself given a solution.”
“And didn’t Quetzalcoatl leave just prior to that, in their mythology, promising his return?” I asked.
I reminded myself I wanted him to leave without bedding me, but his new eyes on me were doing things in deep places — and Ms. Sensible had left the room, apparently not interested in remaining sensible at the moment.
ooh na-na (uh)…
His desire for my mind just surpassed my breasts, so I made a show of crossing my legs, to keep matters in perspective.
His smile could warm the frozen planets above.
“And now those thirty years vanish, and Quetzalcoatl is calling us to come to him,” Slate added.
“Not a dry eye in the house my dear,” I offered. “When should I call him?”
He sat forward with a grin and returned to his meal. “Oh, we have plenty of time now. Let him wait until after lunch.”