The Sensualist

It's surprising how even on the most high-end cruises, you still have to wait somewhere vaguely grimy to board the ship. There's always a port that you have to start from, and the port is always crowded. It's filled with scratched white seats only the oldsters are sitting on because everyone else is so impatient to board that they're standing in line already. It's too hot, or else too cold. There's luggage. There's whining. It's clean enough, but somehow it still feels grimy.

Well, maybe that's not true for the top-tier patrons in the Iridium Circle. They're allowed to board by space elevator, rising up gracefully in the padded comfort of a luxurious small-occupancy pod, watching as the ground falls away and the stars come out. They get to see it all as they transition smoothly from earth to heaven. They can head directly towards the brightest star: the spaceliner herself in scalasynchronous orbit.

For the rest of the passengers, the ones who paid astronomical fees but still aren't quite up to Iridium class, they all start in some port or another, jockeying for position in line to go up by shuttle. Tiny windows, cramped seats. Less-than-reliable gravity control that always makes the first-timers sick when it drops, like a rite of passage. The spacelines have to cut costs somewhere and the shuttles are such a small part of the trip, easily forgotten until the next time you have to wait to board them.

Cam was waiting again, staring out at the launchpad and remembering all the other times he'd waited in grubby spaceports just like this one. At this point, he didn't even care if he got a window seat on the shuttle. It would be nice, but it wasn't like the first few times when he'd been dead set on sitting in the port-side window seat so he could watch the space elevator. He smiled to himself, thinking of that first time he'd seen it. "Elevator" didn't even begin cover it. Neither did "ladder" or "stairway" or any of the things it was called in other languages. It wasn't a stiff, straight piece of metal anchored to a bunch of rocks. It was something totally different. The poetic Japanese name actually came closest to describing it: Hoshi e no ribon. The Ribbon to the Stars. He loved to watch it flex and break apart around obstacles only to rejoin and continue its curving dance, never once dropping the silver pods that slid along its length. Weightless, effortless, almost sensuous in its movements. It reminded him of—

"Passenger Steddi Cam? Will Passenger Cam please come to the check-in desk?"

An amplified voice cut through his fantasies. He shook himself and called out

"That's me."

Cam collected his things and strolled over to the check-in desk. That's what he tried to do, anyway. Don't rush, don't betray how much you need this or they might take it away from you. Stay level. Steady, Cam.

He arrived at the kiosk where a smooth-faced construct gave him a deep, deferential nod.

"Welcome, Passenger Cam. You have been selected for a very special opportunity!"

Cam nodded back slightly, on guard. What now?

"We would like to upgrade you from Platinum Circle to Diamond Circle."

"Diamond Circle. Ok. On what spaceliner? Leaving when?" Cam asked cautiously. It sounded good, but this is what they did to you when they'd oversold the shuttle and needed to bump someone.

"Diamond Circle on the Heaven's Palace. It departs in just three hours, two hours ahead of your scheduled departure."

"No. I'm on the Heaven's Grove."

"Our records show that you have booked the scenic nebula tour. The Heaven's Palace itinerary includes the scenic nebula tour and a one-day stopover at Citadel Project on Mars. Return date is the same due to route optimization."

"So I can spend more on an excursion to the surface? No thanks. I'm on the Heaven's Grove."

"Diamond transit to the Heaven's Palace includes an option to go by space elevator for a small additional fee."

Cam wavered at that, glancing out the window in the direction he knew it must be. He had been to Mars (and been thoroughly unimpressed) but he had never been on the Ribbon to the Stars. The gate-agent construct pounced on his temptation.

"I will upgrade you immediately, Sir."

"No. No! Wait. It has to be the Heaven's Grove." He dropped his voice and added,

"I'm interested in the Grove's displays. In one particular display."

"Ah. Understood, Passenger Cam."

The words couldn't be judgmental coming from construct, but its clipped tone and downgraded address, from Sir back to Passenger, got Cam's back up.

"How 'bout you book me Diamond class transit to the Heaven's Grove instead? To compensate me for my time."

The construct clicked in a negative way. Cam could've sworn it was chiding him.

"That will not be possible, Passenger Cam. The elevator pod for Heaven's Grove has already departed."

"What, ahead of the one for the Palace? Even though the Palace leaves first?"

"I'm afraid so. There was a special request."

"Course there was. Fucking Iridium assholes." Cam muttered.

The construct clicked again and Cam swore even harder at himself internally for swearing in the presence of a gate-agent. That kind of behaviour could get you kicked off a cruise before you even got on. They didn't take chances with aggressive or maladjusted passengers, not after the last few hijackings. Cam backtracked fast.

"Thank you for the generous offer, but I'd prefer to keep my original booking under the Interstellar Passenger Charter of Rights Act, section 5, subsection three."

Those were the magic words. The gate-agent bowed and said, "Of course, Passenger Cam. Thank Heavens you're here!"

Cam wanted to grit his teeth at the lame slogan, but he managed a loose-jawed smile so the construct's facial recognition software wouldn't read him as a threat.

He returned to his place in line. The queue was already snaking around the corner with five hours to go before departure. He could sit on the chairs with the oldsters, and had many times, but now he didn't feel like it. He wanted to make absolutely sure he would be boarding a shuttle. Nothing would keep him off the Heaven's Grove. Nothing would keep him from seeing that display again.

~~~

When you're waiting to board a shuttle, it always seems like an interminable hassle. But once you reach the spaceliner, all of that fades away like a bitter lifetime finally come to an end. You've made it to Heaven, as the advertising says, and they treat you like a minor god there. Cam didn't like to think of himself as a snob, but on some level he relished the way the constructs hurried to remove every obstacle on the way to his room, and from there to the main observation deck.

"Let me take your luggage, Sir."

"Allow me to bring you a lighter robe, Sir. It's warm today!"

"Shall I bring you a drink, Sir? The special today is The Kool-Aid with apple vodka, signature drink of the Heaven's Gate Cruise Lines. Ah ha ha!"

Cam felt the tension drain from his shoulders. He was Sir again, not just Passenger. Once onboard, you were always Sir or Madam or whatever nonbinary form of address you chose. They would even call you by your first name like an old friend if you wanted. Cam let them keep addressing him respectfully because on some obscure level he liked it. In his ordinary life as an IT worker-bee he didn't get much respect. Just another drone in the hive. He spent his nights in an employee capsule at the office, sleep-regulated until it was time for work or for the high-gravity resistance workouts he did to stay healthy enough for transit. He didn't drink, didn't go out partying. Some of his co-workers had apartments and even families off-premises. Not Cam. He didn't want to waste his wages like that. No, he saved up all his golden pollen, hibernating until he could emerge into, well, this.

All around him the ship spread itself out in Edenic terraces. Every ship had a different character based on its name. The Palace would have been Classical, regal, full of stately architectural flourishes. The Grove's concept was "Natural Beauty." Rather than hallways and rooms, it was organized into bamboo bowers and enclosed forest paths. The pools were ferny swimming holes and hot spring-fed onsen. It flowed organically, delighting the senses with humid, life-laden air and fresh stirring breezes. The main observation windows were located above like domed skylights. The cloud-flecked blue that showed through them as Cam arrived wasn't the sky, though; it was the sea shining up from the Earth below. The Heaven's Grove always started its voyage that way, turning all eyes back to the Earth they were about to leave behind. They had to give people something to look at so they could believe they were really in space before they jumped and all the celestial scenery was sucked away down the well of absent light known as the Void.

Cam accepted a glass of The Kool-Aid from a passing server and leaned back against a banyan tree branch to gaze at the Earth. He did it mainly out of habit, just to blend into the field of upturned faces around him. Every cruise liner did some kind of Earth-Sun-Moon tour while leaving port. He'd seen it all before. He let his eyes rove around until they caught sight of the ribbon of the space elevator. It was a faint silver thread now, sometimes vanishing from view entirely, and the grace of its motion was obscured by distance. They were leaving it behind. A cheer went up as the passengers noticed that they were moving. Music played, more drinks were fetched. Some spontaneous dancing broke out. Cam shifted against the obliging tree branch. Patience, he told himself. Patience. But for him, the evening couldn't come too soon.

Night, of course, came almost immediately. Once they cleared Earth orbit, the skylights above showed a view that the more pretentious scenic cruise soundtracks called "the inky, star-strewn depths of Outer Space." For Cam, the starry sky held even less interest than the Earth. He drained the last of The Kool-Aid and went back to his quarters to lay down. He'd been awake for close to fourteen hours already and he wanted to be well-rested for the first night of the displays. Most passengers quickly adjusted their body clocks to match the waking hours and daily activities of the ships, but some—like Cam—had a different rhythm to match. He slept through the opening night feast, the gala, and the shows for family audiences. He only woke when the soft alarm chimed to let him know it was time to get ready for ship's midnight. Opening night.

~~~

The displays on these cruise liners are always set up in the biggest theatre or hall available. On the Heaven's Grove, the main show space was the Cathedral Grove, which occupied the kilometers-long central well of the vessel. Massive bioengineered redwood, sequoia, Douglas fir, and Sitka spruce formed the columns that surrounded the space, their crowns arborsculpted into fantastic domes and flying buttresses. Curtains of Spanish moss hung around the outside of the circle and within the dome, creating an enchanted labyrinth of pale green light and shadow. For the early all-ages shows the moss was drawn up, allowing a large audience to be seated on the terraces of ergonomically-rounded roots and ridges that fanned up the back of the Cathedral. But for the displays, the numinous veils of Spanish moss were let down and arrayed to form a series of dim, intimate passageways and chambers.

Cam threaded his way through the enfolded spaces, looking for the display that had drawn him to the Heaven's Grove (and before that the Heaven's Shore, and before that the Heaven's Bliss). Since it was opening night, the Cathedral was packed with a mix of connoisseurs like Cam and casual thrill-seekers. The energy of the event was off the charts, with voices laughing and calling in what seemed like a hundred languages. People of all shapes, sizes, colours, and gendered stylings mingled freely, some in formal evening wear, others in next to nothing. The only thing everyone had in common was that they'd reached the age of sexual majority on their world, colony, or space habitat. They had to have their majority imprint in order to be let in. Though Cam knew that, he still thought some of the rich, coddled Spacers in the crowd looked like kids barely into their teens, with their willowy figures and dewy-fresh skin that had never been weathered, dried, or burned by an atmosphere. Baby-faced didn't begin to cover it. In fact, youthful but legal-aged Spacers made popular displays, appearing as nubile nymphets and beautiful boys. But that wasn't Cam's thing. He passed by the first display, where pretty little Spacer girls flaunted their pretty little charms on a stage all bathed in pink and golden light.

The further into the displays Cam got, the darker and more explicit the content became. In one bower where the moss wrapped around the branches like a grey cocoon, a woman with great pillowy folds of flesh was being wrapped in shimmering monomolecular latex -all but her enormous breasts, which were left exposed for the whippet-thin androgyne wrapping her to suckle and scratch. The mummified woman moaned softly every time the wand that unspooled the impossibly thin, translucent fabric was passed between her spread legs. Cam paused, noticing how the tight-wrapped monotex was already visibly dewed inside with her wetness. Nice. But still not quite his scene.

He walked on, taking in the wild panoply of human erotic expression. There was primal fucking and refined sapiosexual courtship. There was violent domination and simulated rape in one bower, followed by shy, sweet appeals to friendship in the next. There were many displays that invited audience participation, and though the Cathedral had barely been open an hour a few dozen people were already relaxing in the afterparty lounge, having spent themselves in the first cumbucket they could find.

Cam found himself solicited several times as he threaded his way through the maze of the Cathedral. First he was approached by a pair of buxom, scantily-clad twins with the matte brick-red skin they like to affect on Mars, who pressed against him from either side and whispered something perfectly synchronized in both of his ears that he couldn't make out over the ambient noise. Later, his path was blocked by a strapping leather-clad man in his prime who raised his eyebrows as he approvingly sized up Cam's Earth-bred, high-gravity-trained body. Cam wasn't sure if any of them were actually part of a display or if they were fellow passengers looking for some spontaneous action on the floor. Kinda sloppy there, Cam thought. Maybe it was part of the Grove's "natural" concept to let things just happen, but Cam wanted to know in advance if he was going to be fucking a real person or a display. Hell, that leatherbound Alpha-male could've been a top-notch construct; he was built enough for it. Faintly annoyed, Cam deflected the twins and the Alpha using the passphrase that let displays know a person doesn't want to be pursued. Whether they were part of the displays or not, they followed the social programming cues and melted back into the crowd.

Finally, Cam reached the display he was looking for. It wasn't one of the major stage shows or one of the interactives. In fact, there weren't that many people around this part of the Cathedral Grove at all. But he recognized the display instantly from the sign, a small screen like a museum plaque with a single phrase in flowing black script:

The Sensualist

The sign was attached to the trunk of an enormous tree with a seemingly-natural arched hole in the trunk just tall enough for an Earther to walk through. The hole looked pitch-black from the outside, revealing nothing of the inner space. He'd never seen this entrance to the display before. Must be a custom job for the Heaven's Grove. Cam felt a swell of excitement like nothing any of the other displays could evoke. Well, there was the mummified woman...but that was just a tease, building his anticipation for this moment. He took a deep breath, savouring the sweet sensation of the just-before. Then he stepped inside.

A cool, white, directionless glow surrounded Cam as he stepped in. The sound of voices and music from other displays vanished as if muted. He had passed through a noise-cancelling, light-cancelling field. Inside the tree, everything about the environment was perfectly controlled at all times. Even his presence was being accounted for. If he'd been Iridium Class he could've sealed the entrance and prevented anyone else from coming in, ensuring that nothing but his own presence would alter the display. As it was, he counted himself lucky that no one else was inside at the moment.

After a moment of adjustment, the space in the centre of the white-lit hollow flickered alive with a brief, deliberate burst of static that lasted just long enough to let you know something was there. It was an energetic barrier that acted as a window, a screen, and an invisible, impassable display case all at once. As the field flashed to life, the pineneedle-strewn ground also flickered away. Slowly, from the gap below, a figure drifted up. Cam let out an involuntary breath as she floated, prone and languid, into view.

The Sensualist. She was as pale as snow, with long jet-black hair that moved around her face in cloudy billows. It would've been like seeing an image in monochrome were it not for the vivid red slash of her mouth and the dark brown-pink of her nipples, which were the only colours in the entire room at that moment. Even Cam had worn all black in order to avoid introducing any other colours to the scene. She rarely opened her eyes, but when she did they were dark grey and depthless in a way that stirred Cam unspeakably.

He watched, silent but for his breath, as the Sensualist's display unfolded before him in zero gravity. Gentle air currents lifted her body into a slender arch with her head flung back, facing up, her arms drifting at her sides, and her legs loosely closed. She seemed perfectly at ease, floating in an ocean of sleep where the only thing to caress her was her own long silken hair. But then, something began to happen, something invisible that left its tracks on her flesh. A dimpled impression appeared on her belly and traced its way along her soft skin, up from her rounded belly to her breastbone. The dimple multiplied into three, four, five points of force that surrounded one breast, then the other. It was like she was being fondled by a ghost. Cam knew the force that moved her. It was gravity, pure and simple: concentrated, perfectly modulated microgravitational fields, pressing just hard enough on her skin to make her feel it.

And feel it she did. Her mouth came open slightly. Her back arched more and her legs parted a little. The Sensualist could feel everything that was done to her, no matter how slight or subtle, and though she seemed unconscious she reacted to each stimulation with acute awareness. As the hands of gravity gripped her breasts, a gentle breeze blew over her face, making her hair float slowly back. Her red lips parted even further and she pushed her face into the airstream, as if it was water and she could bathe herself deliciously in it. The current that caressed her face streamed down her throat and breasts, making her small dark nipples perk up even more in arousal. She sighed for the first time and Cam's hand twitched with the desire to stroke his cock, which was throbbing hard. But there was more. He knew there would be more, and he didn't want to stir the air and risk changing the outcome by moving his hand. Not yet.

Manipulated by the air and the gravitational forces, the Sensualist slowly turned until her feet were facing him. The buffeting current around her grew stronger, sending her hair streaming back. She parted her legs and curled them up until her heels nearly touched the backs of her thighs. Once she'd opened them, her knees seemed to be pinned back or maybe pushed apart by a gravitational field between them. With no visible bonds, she was nonetheless bound open. Displayed. Another colour entered the picture: the gleaming, shell-like pinkness of her sex.