Another smile from Dareen.  “I don’t eat pork.  My religion.”  Then quickly she said, “I’ll have the pizza burger.”  She knew Billy was feeling awkward, first ordering beer and then recommending ham.  Yet she was liking him more.  They had never hung out like this before.  It made her feel relaxed, less shy.           As they ate Dareen noticed Billy wasn’t touching his beer.  Finally she said, “I order you to drink that.”           Billy obliged with a modest sip.  “You don’

The flight test was a relief, a momentary respite from the constantly peering eyes.  They had gone out to a clearing, branches snapping under her feet as she walked, then Dr. Vanaver had set up his radar gun and all she had to do was jump and be off.  Up past the tops of the trees she was out of their sight, though the sensor she clasped in her hand told them where she was.  She felt good doing her loop-de-loops and dives and ascents as if she were once again in the night sky

The boy had to be kept naked at all times, and nudity, even so innocent and well-meaning, was a stumbling block to many cultures, even with him still in Semillas. As she took another sip she remembered reading about the long back-and-forth between the Region 4 people and the Health Minister of the emerging country of South Sudan, an afflicted area where the Project had already run an obstacle course to get official approval for penetration. Fortunately the official language o

Angela tuned back in to the conversation around the snack bar table. She noticed that the three women were listening quietly while the young men were talking. This gave the air of a polygamous society with “sister wives” who were utterly subservient. Of course that was not true here. But the women were from far away and not familiar with what was going on in Semillas, so their lack of comment was not surprising. During a lull one of them, Ms. LePen, finally spoke up.

Ms. Chakravarty had to put a damper on adolescent enthusiasm. “It’s not quantity that matters,” she said with as gentle a voice as she could manage. “Many men new to Tantrism see it as some kind of game. They treat the woman like she’s a, well, a pinball machine.” “A what? Oh . . .” The boy at first did not understand the historical reference, but then remembered. “It’s more a matter of intensity,” the older woman explained, “which has a spiritual element to it. I’ll send you

“Here we go again, Steve.  If this is what I think it will be, they will let us in just as she is reaching, uh, sexual climax.  Mr. Zhou?”             “Yes, Mr. Dynarski, Mr. Poris.  If you will only wait a moment . . . you may enter now.”             “OHHHH!  OHHHH!”             “Steve -- don’t look away! . . . YOUR HIGHNESS, GOOD AFTERNOON!”             “OHHH!  OHHH!  ohhhh  . . . G - good afternoon . . . Nick . . . ohhh . . . “             “This is horrible!”             “