His Virtual Bride by Dee Brice Page B

had opened the drapes and was studying the landscape. "I think it's all a mirage. Something the Sednans have created to make visitors feel…"
    "At home?"
    "See for yourself." She paced away, scanning the room as she went. An ordinary room with a couch, tables and chairs, a bar, a few pictures on the wall. A communications console with a book at its side, probably advertisements for things to see and do. Maybe menus for room service.
    "Central Park," Geoff said from the window.
    "Pardon?"
    "The view reminds me of vids taken of Central Park before the interplanetary war. Isn't that what you saw?"
    "I've never seen Central Park. Where is it?"
    "Earth."
    "I figured that much!" She shrugged a half-hearted apology for snapping.
    "New York City."
    "Not ringing any recognition bells here, Geoff." She tapped her head as she plopped down on the couch. "How much will you bet this doesn't open into a bed either?"
    "Keely, honey." He had his arms around her, her head pressed to his shoulder before she could move. "What did you see?"
    "Not a thing. Nothing at all."
    "Jonathan Jacob Jones," he softly swore.
    "Care to explain the etymology of that phrase?"
    "No. Not now anyway. You're hurting, honey, and I hate it."
    "So do I." A small sigh escaped her lips.
     "I hate that I can't take away your pain. That I can't--"
    "Restore my memory?" Easing from his arms, she swiped at an errant tear that had escaped her control. "Careful, Snake. You're starting to sound as if you care."
    "I do."
    "Not what I need to hear right now." Covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears.

    * * * *

    For several interminable minutes, Geoff just let her cry. Even kept his hands to himself until, unable to stand her soft sobs any longer, he pulled her into his arms. Feeling more helpless than he'd ever felt, all he could do was rock her a little. Rub her back a little. Hand her a tissue someone had put on a nearby table.
    "I thought we left you on No-Name ," he griped to a solidifying Herma-Frodie.
    "You need us here," Herma said, shoving another tissue into Keely's outstretched hand.
    Frodie looked as uncomfortable as Geoff felt, watching Herma's mate square his shoulders and pat her back.
    "Go away. All of you." Even as she spoke the words, Keely burrowed into Geoff's tear-soaked chest. Fortunately his flight suit material could absorb even more moisture.
    "We have to talk," Frodie murmured, almost whispering.
    Nodding, Geoff murmured, "Later. For now… Please go."
    "You too," Keely mumbled, sounding stronger.
    "I'm not going anywhere," he vowed, wondering if Herma-Frodie had taken up residence in the walls. He couldn't see them or any space dust smoke trail they might have left.
    Keely reared back, taking a quick glance at his damp chest. Grabbing the container of tissues, she turned her back and blew her nose. "I hope this bathroom is half as nice as the one on Saturnalia."
    "Why don't we take a nap first? You're tired. I'm tired. At least get into bed. Maybe your body will take the hint. Being prone, et cetera."
    "It's not my body that needs rest, Geoff. My mind seems to be going in a thousand directions."
    "I have a suggestion."
    She looked at him. A tiny glint of humor lit her eyes. "I'll bet you do."
    "A bath, Keely. A nice long bath. If you want, the tub can provide those perfumed bubbles women seem to enjoy so much. It can also massage you. That should help you relax."
    Keely hummed. "I read that sex is relaxing. That is, once a person reaches climax, she feels relaxed. Even sleepy. And--if you remember our conversation--a woman has to be--"
    "Taught how to climax. I remember." Triple J! He remembered it all too well. Every time he thought about teaching Keely how to , he got hard.
    "It's okay, Geoff. I can see you don't want to do it. At least, not with me."
    "That isn't the problem, Keely. It's just I've never made lo--had sex with someone who's never climaxed."
    "Oh." She chewed her lower lip. "I'm not asking you to deflower me--if that's