3 comments/ 10047 views/ 0 favorites Tonal Key: Valentine By: keyala They were soulmates, conceived on the home world, and placed in the Experimental Atrium Researching Tonal Hybridization (E.A.R.T.H) facility for testing. The point of the tests run there was a continuation of the natural versus protocol based life-bonding sequences. So far the results had come back far in favour of the protocol based sequences currently in use on planet. Scientifically, soulmates, or life-bonders, were unmistakable. Within visual proximity, their radiated energy signatures tuned to the same frequency. Physical contact tuned their brainwaves, so that one was indistinguishable from the other. Intercourse and the sharing of life fluids during the act actually caused the inception of amalgamated strands of DNA and RNA whose sole purpose seemed to be the inseparability of the bonders in life or death. Most of those living in E.A.R.T.H. were volunteers with a memory block placed to keep them from influencing the data. A few had actually been born in the atrium, mainly as a control group to compare to the memory-blocked volunteers and other test subjects. Some were embryos grown on planet until enough energy signatures and brainwave patterns had developed to match them with the life-bonder, then both soulmates were taken to E.A.R.T.H. Those with a memory block were implanted with a subconscious directive, making it imperative for them to do their part in the research, even if they didn't know why. Those born in the atrium were allowed to do as they pleased; as a control group, they would live and die as part of the experiment, never the wiser. Those transported as embryos, or even young children, would have subliminals transferred into their minds each sleeping segment, so that one day they could return to planet without experiencing culture shock or language barriers. So two life-bonders were, as embryos, placed in the E.A.R.T.H. They were placed at opposite ends of a large country. The point of this particular experiment was to see if a pair already partially bonded would be drawn together through the bond, or if it required full bonding to form the psychic link between soulmates. There was also a side study regarding the potential for socialization to overrule the instinctive search for the life-bonder. They were but one of 50 pairs involved in the initial experiment. ******************** She looked out the car window blankly. It was Valentine's Day, she was 16, and instead of getting ready for a hot date, she was in the car with her parents and 8 year old brother, looking at houses they were potentially interested in. They were out in the middle of nowhere; Jamul in San Diego County, California. Not what most people thought of when you said San Diego. There were fields of brown grass wilting in the winter chill of 56 F. The sky was an odd, flat blue, and there were occasional farmhouses scattered about. They were far out, on the outskirts of even Jamul, almost to the mountains. It was the last house her parents wanted to look at. As they rounded the corner on the wide dirt road, she saw it. All her dreams of what she thought a house should be, what she hoped for out of this move, they were all sitting there, maybe another 2 miles away in the middle of one of the brown fields. The sign at the turn-in proclaimed it to be the house her parents were looking for. They sat there for several minutes, just gazing at it. She was hopeful; it was perfect! Besides the house, the property included 15 acres...which became the basis for its rejection. Her parents were discussing what they would do when they were too old to do anything with the land. She couldn't believe her ears! Why do anything with it? Let it go wild like it was now. Buy a couple of sheep to keep the government off their back. But the car was backing up and turning around. As her father maneuvered the car in the tight space of the turn-in, she looked out the window again, disappointed. That's when she saw him. He was one of a group of four teenage boys, all around her age. They were jumping over the fence across the road, heading towards them. The boys were talking about something, laughing. He turned his head and a shock of recognition went through her. His eyes were an electric blue, his skin a healthy tan and his shaggy hair a medium brown that fell over his forehead in disarray. He had the rangy look of someone still growing into their bones, but was handsome nonetheless. Most of this was peripheral knowledge. His eyes captured her, drew her in. He too stopped, staring at her. As the car turned and maneuvered, they both unconsciously moved with it, persistently keeping eye contact. One of his friends grabbed him as he placed himself in danger of being hit. Her mother grabbed the back of her shirt, asking her if she was trying to fall out the window and why was it rolled down in the first place. As they began moving away, she had an overwhelming urge to jump out of the car and run back to him; she felt as though she was looking at the missing part of herself. Feeling for the door handle, she stopped. If he rejected her, her mind would shatter, she would fall apart. It was a knowledge hidden deep inside her. His friend stepped in front of him, forcefully breaking the eye contact that had held for a quarter mile. She turned around and sat down, rolling up her window and staring dejectedly at her feet. She didn't say a word for nearly 5 hours. ******************** It was Saturday. Valentine's Day for those who cared. He didn't have a girlfriend and didn't want one; all the girls at his school were too clingy and needy. They expected to put out and they expected marriage in return. He wasn't interested. He and the other guys without girlfriends were going up to the hills behind the River House to camp out for the night. The River House had been empty for about 7 years. It had a small stream running behind it, hence the name. He thought it was a great house and a sweet property. Part of him hoped it would remain empty until he was older and could afford to buy it. Len and Armando met him at his house. After that, the three of them went down the road a bit to collect Peter. The side fence of Peter's house was across the road from the River House property, so, grabbing the cooler and backpack they were taking, they started jumping the fence and passing the items over, talking about what they would do when they got to a good campsite and joking about who the ghost stories would scare. Len suddenly stopped, pointing at the car slowly maneuvering out of River House's turn-in. He turned his head to look, and saw her. Her eyes pulled him in, trapping him. They were brown, a rich mahogany colour not usually seen as an eye shade. It made him think of cinnamon and fire, autumn and warmth. She was pretty in an exotic way. Her complexion was a milky caramel. She had high, slashing cheekbones, a full, pink bow mouth, unpainted he was sure. Slashing black brows, curly hair pulled loosely back in a ponytail, dark brown with glimmers of red fire, also natural he somehow knew. He couldn't see her from the waist down, but her breasts were abnormally full for her age. Yet all this came and went in his mind, unimportant. Her eyes held him, drawing him in. In that moment he felt a peace, a contentment he'd never realized he was missing. As the car began to move, he found himself drifting with it, trying desperately to maintain eye contact. He needed her. This was important. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt Armando grab his shoulder, saying something. She was leaning farther out the window, fighting to keep him in sight. He tried to shake off Armando; if she jumped out the window, he had to catch her, had to keep her from being hurt. The car moved further down the road. He ached as though he was being torn in two. Suddenly Armando was in front of him. The eye contact was broken, and he suddenly understood the meaning of bereft. As his friends surrounded him, asking what was going on, he wanted nothing more than to fall down crying in the middle of the road. Instead he shook his head and walked silently towards the campsite. He couldn't bring himself to speak or shake off his melancholy mood for nearly five hours. ******************** The atrium had been built in a nearby solar system for easy access. Shaped like a planet with a similar atmosphere to the home world, E.A.R.T.H. was one of the 15 wonders of the known universe, and the most famous experiment in history. At the core of the atrium was an observation center kept cutting edge by both an internal R&D center, as well as government funding and supplies. Its critics called it the universe's largest match-making fiasco. The skeptics just called it crazy. Whether it was science or not was still under debate, as were the ethics. Regardless, it was fascinating, and the observation center's tour registry was booked up to 20 years in advance. As the current group of curious homeworlders and aliens wandered through the center, following the bouncy, friendly, frighteningly bubbly guide, they were treated to a green alert flashing from a bank of unmanned sensors and screens. In moments a team of nearly 15 scientists had rushed into the room, frantically taking notes. Overheard were comments along the lines of "last to meet up" and "stronger connection, though," an observation on "puberty and post-hormonal upsurge," and a very quiet "genetic anomaly." Though the crowd clamoured to find out what was going on, nothing was revealed as they were very politely ushered out of the center to their waiting transports. Inside, the research teams setup a regular observation unit in the small room. They were doomed to disappointment, and after 3 years without a blip, gave it up, reassigning personnel to more fruitful tasks. ******************** I hate it when Valentine's falls on a weekday, she thought as she stepped out of the shower, just as tired as when she had stepped in. She grabbed her towel, running it over her hair just enough to stop the dripping before drying the rest of her body. Tossing it into the hamper by the door, she walked out of the bathroom and down the hall nude. Reaching her room, she cut on a small column heater standing about a foot into the floor space just behind the door. She reached to the corner of her short dresser and picked up her lotion. Standing in front of the heater, she slathered it over every inch of skin, doing basic stretches as she went. Finally she stood completely upright and placed a last dab of lotion in her right palm, placing the lotion back on her dresser with the left. Rubbing her hands together, she held them momentarily in front of the heater to warm the lotion before attacking her crotch from both the front and rear. Her left hand delved into the front, spreading the lotion across every layer of her nether lips, then lingering to play with her clit. Her right hand went in from the rear, spreading and rubbing in lotion from the back of her rear crack to her pussy and back, even going so far as to insert the tip of her first finger into her anus, making sure there was lotion everywhere. For a moment she simply stood there. Then her right hand came back and began playing with her nipples while her left hand kept up a rhythm on her clit. Closing her eyes, she could see him. His face had changed over the years, matured, but his eyes...Always his eyes. Backing up, she sat on the edge of the bed, legs splayed wide, still masturbating. Slowly she slid a finger into herself. Her tight muscles clutched it as though it was a lifeline and her hips began to lightly rock against it. Behind her eyelids, he looked at her and gasped; slowly, she pulled her finger out and stopped massaging herself. She lay back on the bed, legs still hanging over the side, completely open. There was a still moment, then she gasped as something seemed to slide into her, pounding at her with no other preliminary. Her left hand came up as if holding someone to her breast while her right hand fisted helplessly in the sheets beside her head. Lips parted in ecstasy, she panted softly. A couple minutes later, she cried out huskily, jerking her hips as if milking the last drops out of a man. She lay there contentedly for a moment before popping up with new energy. She pulled a red dress from her closet, draping it over the foot of the bed. Pulling a pair of red fishnet thigh-highs and a red demi-cup bra from her drawer, she took them with her and sat back on the side of the bed. Slowly she rolled the thigh highs up her legs, enjoying the soft fabric and the sensation of covered but bare. When they were rolled up, she stood, putting on the demi-bra. It was several sizes too small, as it was difficult to find cute bras in her extremely odd size. In fact, there was only one company she had found that made a 32-H. So she did what anybody else would do; bought the cutest one in the closest size, in this case a 32-DDD, and bought the outfit to go with the bra's fit. In this case, the bra pushed her in and up, to the point where her areolas where showing, nipples barely tucked inside. With the plunge in the front of the dress, it was scandalously indecent while actually exposing nothing at all. Valentine's was one of only two days a year when she was risqué, and the only day of the year when she wore red. She was single, and had been every Valentine's Day since she was sixteen. For her it wasn't a holiday for fun and romance anymore; it had become her mission to find him. She looked every day, hoping, but on Valentine's she actually prepared for him. With a determined look on her face, she stepped in front of her dresser and opened the makeup bag sitting there. Glancing in the mirror hung on the wall, she took in her appearance, then nodded to herself. She seldom used makeup, but the dress deserved it. With a light hand, she brushed the merest hint of red shadow across her eyelids. Equally light, she added a hint of blush to her high, sharp cheekbones. She looked at the delicate colour with satisfaction. Black eyeliner was next, not terribly thick, and red lip liner that matched the colour of the dress. No mascara was needed; her eyelashes were so thick and black she'd never found it useful. A thin layer of clear gloss, then a brushed-on layer of bright red, the same shade as all the rest. On top of that she swiped a layer of black lipstick; she was one of only a handful of people who could wear black lipstick and look classy instead of gothic, and she used it to her advantage. Stepping back she looked at herself in the mirror, getting a perspective from mid-thigh up. Her waist was trim, though her abs weren't as defined as she personally preferred. Her butt was relatively tight. She usually shaved all but a small strip of hair between her legs, and tonight she had gone over everything so it was beautifully smooth and neat. The lace of the demi-bra cupped and lifted her indecently. She smiled and stepped back to the bed, lifting the dress, and stepping into it carefully. Reaching behind herself, she zipped it up to the middle of her shoulder blades, made sure the neckline and sheer strips that passed for sleeves were adjusted, then turned back to the mirror. Good, she decided, I look like sex. With that thought, she pulled on the 5cm heeled, ankle-high red leather slouch boots she bought to go with the dress, picked up her black velvet wrap, and tucked her IDs and cash into the sides of the boots. Pausing to pick up a small bottle of black tinted lip gloss and her keys from the kitchen, she walked out the door and locked it behind her. As she clattered down the stairs, her cell started playing the chorus of her favorite rock song. Walking out the front door, she saw her best friend standing next to a black sports car. Waving, she hurried out and climbed into the car, listening to her friends razz her about always being EXACTLY on time, neither more nor less. ******************** He was tired. The conference had been long and boring, and it was only the end of the second day. Calling downstairs, he tried to order room service, only to find the wait time was over two hours. When he demanded to know why, he was succinctly notified it was Valentine's Day. Hanging up without ordering, he rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. Great. He had to go out and find someplace random enough he could get in to eat in under an hour. He went over to the suitcase sitting on the luggage stand, unlocked and opened it. Pulling out a pair of black jeans and a dark red button-up oxford, he tossed them onto the bed, diving back in to find his short leather Wellingtons to wear instead of his dress shoes. Closing and locking the suitcase, he strolled back over to the bed. Throwing off his shirt, he bent quickly to strip off his pants. Suddenly he jerked up straight, breathing rapidly. Closing his eyes to regain control, he saw her. She was much the same as the first time he'd seen her, but the sweet innocence was toned down, slowly being replaced with a confident sexuality that appealed to the man as much as the sweetness had appealed to the boy. She looked him straight in the eye, then lay before him on the bed, spread wide, waiting for him. With his eyes closed he would swear she was actually there. He positioned himself and drove into her, driven mad by the fact she had played with herself instead of letting him arouse her. He rode her hard and fast, biting at her breasts, trying to claim her, to make her stay. He rode her until they came together, then they lay quietly, cuddled closely. Yet he knew she wasn't there. He knew it. Sighing, he opened his eyes after only a moment. Sure enough, he was alone. He went into the bathroom to clean himself off before coming back out and slipping into his pants and shirt. He hated underwear and seldom wore it, tonight being no exception. He grabbed his black leather bomber, wallet, and room key and left. ******************** The old doctor stood frowning at the staff of the observation center, demanding to know why there hadn't been at least a token monitor in the room at all times. Didn't they know that this experiment was highly important and high-profile? The king's granddaughter was one of the subjects, as well as grandchildren, nieces, and nephews of several other important personages. The best thing would be to hope that the computer's backup memory hadn't had to reset at any point. Several of the senior researchers shook in fear. Ten years ago all the 20 year computer backup memories had been replaced with higher resolution 10 year backups. At the time it had seemed a good trade; now they weren't so sure. Sweating bullets, a member of the advanced sociological research team approached the panel to call up the backup. A sigh of relief rippled through the room, beginning with the doctor and ending with the most junior of the staff, who weren't honestly sure why they were relieved. Not only had it been just nine years ago that these signals had started, but the first four years had been backed up in a proper archival format so a reset would not have immediately ruined the experiment. The moment of relief over, the old doctor berated the teams for taking anything for granted; even an experiment that seemed it would fail. Every experiment still in the field was to be monitored until completion, all back-data to be run through new technologies and knowledge for re-analyses. What was undetectable five years ago now showed a continuous and amazing progression that might hold an important clue to all their research. With that the doctor swept out of the room to his temporary quarters in the center. Behind him, a spark of purpose built in the research teams. The small room was once again under observation, as was its only monitor that had ever shown any sign of activity. ******************** They arrived at the first club around 10 pm, letting the valet park the beautiful black car. Sweeping up to the front door, they breezed past several other people waiting in line, the doorman giving all three of them a thorough and appreciative going over. Checking wraps and coat, they wandered into the main dance room, pounding with loud hip-hop beats. Smiling, she slipped away from her friends, heading towards the much less crowded drum and bass room a floor above. Tonal Key: Valentine As she wandered through the crowd, she searched for the pair of blue eyes that had haunted her for years. She had turned 25 last month and was rapidly growing tired of waiting to find him. If he rejected her now, she could handle it, would handle, if he would just be somewhere, anywhere, here and now. But he wasn't there. Waving at the bar tender just outside the door of the drum and bass, she breezed in, finding her favorite percussionists just setting up. They grinned at her, pleased. The drum and bass crowd was small; it hadn't caught on many places yet. Those who were loyal to it soon came to know each other by face if not by name, and greeted each other as friends. Idly leaning out the street side window, waiting for the music to start, her gaze was captured by the top of a man's head as he went into the small 24 hour pizza joint across the street. Something about him seemed familiar. She started to shrug it off, then remembered that Valentine's Day was mission day. Waving to the people in the room, she took off. The bartender stared in surprise; she never left the club before closing, and never went to any of the other rooms. Rushing downstairs, she ran to the cloak room, waiting impatiently for the bunny-girl manning it to get her wrap. She practically tore it from her hands, leaving a $20 to pay for service and tip...a very generous tip, considering the actual fee was only $3 for the 15 minutes she'd been in the club. Running out the doors, she rushed across the street to the pizza place, stopping traffic and nearly causing an accident. She swept in like a whirlwind, waving at Ms. Lisa, who owned the place. She often stopped here after her club visits twice a month, and came every time she had insomnia or a creative fit. Her gaze swept across the restaurant, then stopped, ensnared. It was him. ******************** He'd been wandering around for almost an hour when he saw the little pizza place. It seemed somehow...homey and oddly appealing. If asked, he'd have said he wasn't in the mood for pizza, but something about this place seemed to draw him. Across the street he heard the loud thumping of the famous nightclub. A part of him was tempted to go, but he knew that with the conference in the morning he didn't dare. Instead he opened the door to the pizza restaurant and went inside. It was, to his relief, fairly empty. A young couple with two kids, an older man reading a paper, and a teenaged boy in a delivery uniform playing a handheld game in the corner were the only occupants besides the wiry black woman bearing down on him. She smiled hugely, greeting him like an old friend and seating him in a booth near the back of the restaurant. Her gaze swept over him appreciatively, but she was old enough to be his mother, so he just smiled politely and looked down at his menu. He had just made a decision on what to have when the door opened. Involuntarily he looked up. A petite woman in a red dress to die for, black velvet trailing from her left hand, swept into the place, waving at the woman who had shown him to his table. She stood a moment, scanning the room. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't place her in his mind. An instant later, those mahogany eyes met his and locked. The same feeling from nine years ago, but deeper, fuller. He'd never be able to let her go this time; he knew it. Slowly he stood, walking towards her as if in a trance. In a moment that seemed 100 years and less than a second, he reached her, raising a hand to stroke her cheek. As they made contact for the first time, she sighed the one word that echoed in both their minds: Finally. ******************** The intern sighed in resigned boredom. Bonder's Day was always difficult for the Lonely, the unbonded. The Valentine's holiday of E.A.R.T.H. had initially been aligned to correspond to the home world celebration, but over the years the star calendar had fallen out of favour for marking data in the atrium, causing the days to actually align only on an alternating 9 year/11 year cycle. She absently rubbed her fingers across her crotch, wishing her soulmate would suddenly appear to relieve the ache caused by the tonal interplay of the planetary alignment. The analytical portion of her brain marveled at the boon of a location where even the same tonal frequencies were echoed from the home world environment. At the same time, the frustrated desire it caused her rued and cursed the timing of her application and acceptance; why couldn't she have been in transit during this torture? Cryo-sleep was suddenly more appealing. Soon she was so absorbed in relieving her frustrations, she failed to notice the yellow alert, or the 12 green alerts that began nearly 15 minutes later. Just as she came, the door slammed open. Somewhere in the back of her haze filled mind, she heard heavy footsteps tromping across the floor. As she came down from her self-induced bliss, the whine of monitors coming on and the rapid clack of a keyboard seeped into her awareness. Turning her head away, she tried to ignore the sounds of duty, strove to stay in her pleasant haze. Rough hands grabbed her shoulders, shaking her back into awareness. The old doctor glared down at her, berating her lack of control. Pushing her to the side with a disgusted sound, he manned the main console, punching in sequences for back data, archivisation, and staff support. Still somewhat bemused and frustrated, the hapless intern sneered, not realizing who stood before her. Her ruby-painted lips dropped disparaging remarks on everything from his scientific abilities to his manhood. She made sure to point out that staff support on this night was limited to the unbonded. Shifting quickly, she began to taunt him for never having formed a bond at his age. She was quickly silenced by a pair of strange ice-blue eyes and a dark voice telling her his soulmate was dead, asking if she'd like to join her. When she failed to reply, he turned back to his work. Quietly, she stood and began to work alongside him, frustrations momentarily forgotten. Contrary to the intern's expectations, an entire team of senior researchers appeared, 20 in all, 10 bonded pairs. Working quickly, they back-referenced data for the duration of the yellow alert, pulled up visuals, and cross-referenced the new data with the previous information. During processing, the intern was effectively removed, left in a corner to observe. Her eyes grew wider as information and hypotheses flew across the room. Alpha pair initiated contact, tonal references aligning sequence level two; yellow alert verified. Tonal realignment completion for alpha pair predates tonal alignment sequence one for beta group by .275 seconds. Blips in REM sleep cycle for gamma group. Delta group designated through tonal continuity. Alpha pair genetic anomalies verified. Carrier wave verification in process...carrier wave verified. Carrier wave source verification in process...wave source verified. Alpha pair production of carrier wave verified at 99.82% probability. A moment of silence, then a throat was cleared. Awaken a sleeper, Doctor? No response. The intern was frozen in place, trying to assimilate all the data she had just overheard. Doctor? Doctor Valentine? Awaken a sleeper? Another pause, then the doctor jerked his head in assent. As the doctor silently turned and walked out of the room, a loud cheer erupted from the scientists, followed by a brief but intense make-out session between bonders. Taking the moment of silence to orient herself, the intern finally stood upright, approaching a pair of scientists as they came up for air. Is it Valentine's theory, then? Interplanetary tonal interaction throughout the galaxy can affect the bonding process? It's been proven? And that old man...is Doctor Valentine? The condescending looks on their faces answered her question, though she was still lost as to how. In a matter of seconds it didn't matter; the red alert began to sound. Aghast, the entire room realized their fatal flaw in celebrating before completing their work. Doctor Valentine rushed in just in time to see the looks of horror being passed between the researchers. Without pausing, he began barking out orders for the progress meters to be manned, an up to date visual put on display, and the tonal realignment detail screen put on a side by side with the visual while somebody made sure they didn't lose any pairs due to mass incompetence. As the doctor's displays came up, his shoulders sagged and his head dropped in relief. Raising back up he barked for someone to awaken the forsaken sleeper before somebody's synapses got fried. The intern redeemed herself by having done so as soon as the tonal realignment had appeared onscreen showing only 22%. ******************** Lisa stared in amazement at the couple in front of her, groping each other as if the world simply didn't exist. She was worried that they would start undressing at any moment, but neither she nor the joint efforts of the customers seemed to break into their world. Even the delivery boy's catcalls and obscenities fell on deaf ears. Just as she was about to step in and force them apart, a strange, high-pitched ringing filled her ears, climbing up the scale until it seemed to be an echo in her skull more than an actual sound. Her vision went black. Seconds later, she blinked. Everything was exactly the way it had been before the ringin, except now she knew what to do. Taking care to touch them simultaneously, she managed to half guide, half manhandle the couple into her back room. Once there, she opened a small fuse box, flipped two switches O.R., stepped back out of the room, closing and locking the door. Returning to the few customers, she offered some romantic dribble about a married couple split up due to amnesia, but after a full recovery, etc. They lapped it up eagerly, as well they should on Valentine's Day. In the back room, a green scanner came on, followed by a red warning light. A containment field wrapped around the couple. Moments later, a white light seemed to envelope them, then they were gone. The door to the back room unlocked automatically, the O.R. switches flipping back to their original positions. ******************** As soon as he touched her, it was as though a floodgate opened. All his thoughts echoed in her mind, her memories combined with his, thoughts intermixing, swirling together through the contact. She blinked twice, trying to understand. It was as if she was seeing him and herself at the same time. He shook his head slightly, having the same problem. Looking into each other's eyes, they realized, without words or any other external expression, that they had only one mind between them. What one thought, so did the other one, and while agreeing it was disturbing in principle, the reality bothered them not at all. Slowly his hand slid down her cheek, brushing its way down her neck and across her shoulder. Slowly it worked its way forward, skimming over the exposed skin of one breast before running slowly down her side and around her waist, pulling her flush to him. Smiling slightly, she ran her hands up over his thighs, momentarily gripping his butt before sliding her hands around and up. Teasingly, she left them low on his hips, thumbs not quite brushing his rampant erection. He growled at her, then attacked her lips, pressing roughly, bruisingly, sliding his tongue gently over her lips in contrast. No longer in a teasing mood, both his hands went to the sides of her thighs, pushed up under her dress, and slid around to grasp the bare skin of her ass, lifting her slightly to grind against him. Her dress was just long enough to fall over his hands, barely hiding the soft globes he was grasping so tightly. She would probably have bruises there in the morning. Mentally he took her to task for teasing him so often. First they had mind-blowing sex each Valentine's but she was never there, next she purposely left her herself half-naked, not to mention masturbating to tease him and her persistent refusal to touch his erection. She merely projected a smug smile into his mind, leaving her hands where they'd been the entire time. Slowly she wrapped her right leg around his calf, then slid it slowly up his leg, up over her own hands, leaving it wrapped around his waist, her bare lips pressed directly to the bulge threatening to burst the zipper of his jeans. He panted into her mouth lightly, trapped between ecstasy and pain. Pulling away from her soft mouth, he looked bemusedly at the smeared lipstick, then bent his head to her neck, biting not so gently. In return she ran her tongue in and around his ear and down the tendon on his neck, nipping softly as he continued to bite her roughly, until finally he lifted his head. They both felt something happening inside them, between them, to them, but neither one could focus on it sufficiently as desire rode them mercilessly. Reaching down, he lifted her left leg to join her right, settling it around his waist, helping to support her with the hand still massaging her behind. Backing up until the back of his legs hit the bed that had apparently appeared from nowhere, he lowered himself until he was sitting on the edge with her on his lap. Running his right hand over her back, he quickly discovered the zipper of her dress, pulling it down. Caressing the strip of flesh he'd uncovered, he moved his hands back to her shoulders, brushing the shallow excuse for sleeves down her arms. He rested his hands on her wrists, encouraging her to slip from the sleeves. Finally releasing her grip, she slid her hands from the sleeves, letting her palms rest briefly on his chest, still covered by his shirt. Hands at her waist, he gathered the material of the rucked up dress, pulling it slowly, teasingly over her body, letting his thumbs trail in its wake. As he pulled the dress up, she raised her arms to accommodate him, momentarily breaking the kiss. As the dress came over her head, he stared into her passion glazed eyes, glowing faintly gold under the odd mahogany colour. Holding her eyes, he bent his head, licking the areoles peaking from the tops of the bra cups. She squirmed against him before throwing her head back and letting him have his way. As he teased her breasts, never quite touching her throbbing nipples, she began to unbutton his shirt, mainly by feel. Suddenly growing impatient, he dumped her onto the bed, ripping his shirt off, losing several buttons in the process. His low boots took a moment to pull off, seeming to frustrate him more. Yanking his pants down, he kicked them to the side then turned towards the bed. She lay on her back where he had dumped her, knees to one side, feet to another. The red demi-bra, fishnet thigh-highs, and heeled boots only served to emphasize what was bared to his gaze. As they watched each other, they both licked their lips in an unconsciously identical gesture. Grabbing her ankles, he dragged her legs straight, then open. Sitting on the bed near her feet, he reached over and began to work the boots off her feet, leaning in somewhat to peer at her glistening sex. Tossing the first boot over his shoulder, he leaned in closer, planting kisses on her inner thighs. She writhed slightly on the bed, gripping the coverlet in her fists. The second boot flew across his shoulder and he leaned in farther, lapping delicately at the flowing juices. She let loose an audible whimper, pushing her hips towards his mouth. Smiling, he grasped her thighs, keeping her from moving too far. Continuing his delicate lapping rhythm, he caressed her clit only with his breath, and entered her canal not at all. Reaching down, she grabbed his hair and started pulling, trying to direct him where she wanted him. Instead he rose up, easily escaping her grip. Bracing his arms on either side of her head, he teased her with the tip of his rock hard erection. Slanting him a look that promised retaliation, she swung her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, using him as a brace to lift herself up and half-impale herself on his member. Muttering about her lack of patience, he grabbed her around the waist with one arm and rolled over, leaving her on top, slowly sinking down onto him. She gasped at the change in sensation, then whimpered as his length reached her barrier. Bracing herself on hands planted on his chest and knees on either side of his hips, she looked at him sadly, unable to continue. His eyes blazed blue fire. Jerking up, he sank fangs into her neck as he broke through her maidenhead. She reared back in pain, then sank her fangs into the artery exposed by his position. Locked together, they rode out the storm of their desire at an unmatchable pace, running up on nearly three simultaneous orgasms before collapsing to the bed, exhausted. After an unknown time, she stirred slightly, looking at him, bemused, curious as to just how he'd had three orgasms without any recovery time. Smiling, he slid a hand up her body, grasping one of her still half hidden breasts, noting that the fact she was always ready for him helped. Another few minutes of gazing into each others eyes passed before they acknowledged the odd situation they found themselves in. Where they were, how they'd gotten there, and which direction the exit lay in became top priority. Using the newly developed mental bond, they discussed options while cuddling on the bed. As if on a signal, they rolled out of opposite sides of the bed, retrieving their clothes and dressing silently. Minutes later they wandered the room hand in hand, searching for an exit. Except for the bed and a plush carpet, the room was empty. Everything was a shade of grey. ******************** The three people remaining upright in the observation center stared in awe at the statistics playing across the screen. Doctor Valentine, the female intern, and a male scientist who had been with the project nearly as long as Valentine simultaneously released the breath they had been holding. All the others had long since fallen to the floor, writhing in sensual ecstasy. The male had entered the room only after the full red alert had sounded throughout the observation compound and he had seen his collegues falling like flies. If they weren't contained was breathed out by the intern, only to be silenced by the doctor's upraised hand. Typing in a high security sequence, he barked out orders for the chamber to be unlocked and reentry processing begun. Rushing to comply, the intern left the room, leaving the two men alone. Another upraised hand and a frown met the quietly voiced You're sure. The forming But was chopped away by the same hand. A gesture towards the data silently proved the point it was too late for any other options. Shaking his head sorrowfully, the senior scientist moved to walk away. A moment of hesitancy echoed with: The experiment won't be the same. Waiting for an acknowledgement that never came, he departed. Alone, Valentine keyed in another secure sequence, changing two "unchangeable" lines of data. As the rest of the researchers came back to themselves, he closed out the screen, assuming a look of disgust. His merciless growl of Get back to work shook many of the scientists out of their afterglow. Glancing with grim satisfaction at the two yellow alerts and 13 green alerts flashing from the wall, he watched the red alert die out, the data consoles moving to the Archive section. Without another word, he walked out of the room towards the shuttles headed back to the home world. ******************** Due to Bonder's Day, there were only four other people besides the doctor on the shuttle. One was the young pilot, obviously unbonded and well in control of himself to be allowed to fly. Another was a woman of middle years with a hard and cynical gleam in her eye proclaiming that she, too, was unbonded. Directly across the aisle from Valentine was an exotic young couple. While unique in their own rights, together they ran the gamut of exotic features and set each other off strikingly. While clearly bonded, they seemed well in hand for such a tonally affecting night. Tonal Key: Valentine Leaving the hanger under a cloak, the shuttle began to gain altitude. Just as they broke through E.A.R.T.H.'s artificial gravity field, the doctor turned to the couple, confident no trace of the smugness he felt showed on his visage. Smiling genially, he gestured towards them, pointing out they were Well under control for a Bonder's. An identical blank, somewhat disbelieving cynical expression shone in both pairs of completely different eyes. How mahogany brown and electric blue could look alike, he didn't know, but the same mind peered from both pairs of eyes. In his mind echoed a refrain that would haunt him for years in varying forms: I don't know, Doctor Cupid S. Valentine. I'm only an experiment in your image...