Veni Creator Spiritus (~1650 words)
Sebastian rolled over and sprawled across his bed. He pulled at his sad sack of a pillow and tucked it under his chin. His eyes really weren't ready to work. He flicked his tongue and wrangled in a bit of drool. His outstretched arm searched about and felt for anything warm on the other side of the bed, but his fingers found only the other end of the blanket that covered his naked body.
He groaned in dissatisfaction. Maybe it all had been a dream. A sopping dream of soft breasts and wild hips drenched by frustration and a little bit of give-up. After all, it wasn't every night that a woman dangled her cleavage for him at the local drinking establishment. And it was much rarer that he would take one to his bed on the very same night out. But he had such a wonderful and steady escalation of drinks that he readily and delightfully agreed with all her ideas on the sad state of Earth and all her colonies. She tasted as tempting as she looked. Her perfume had something to do with that. The waft of synthesized orange blossoms lingered.
Sebastian popped up from his stomach to his knees as if he had been sleeping on a bed of rattlesnakes. His eyes popped open. His hands pattered his belly. He exhaled in relief.
"Yeah," she began. On the corner of the bed, she sat, curled up with her knees clutched to her chest. Though she had her back to him, he could tell that she was as naked as he was. She had been watching the television in the dark and without the sound. She spoke without turning to face him. "You still have your kidneys."
"Oh," said Sebastian. "I mean, of course, I do. I mean, I wasn't checking." He dropped his arms to his sides. His body slouched downward.
"Don't worry," she said. "It's much easier to get you hard if you're intact."
"Promises, promises," he said. "But, you know, it's much easier to understand if you have the volume up on the TV."
Sebastian fell back and bounced onto the mattress. She wobbled like an egg though she was in no danger of falling off the bed. He slithered up to her side and rested the side of his head on the edge of the bed. He tried to angle to see her face.
"Unless you can read lips," he said.
"I didn't want to wake you," she said. "Also, I can read lips." She seemed content to keep watching the television.
"Really?"
"Well, I did get the message when you kissed me," she said.
He smiled. The sex was amazing, he thought. "The sex was amazing," he said, without much thought. He hissed before he pursed his lips together. He waited for a moment that wasn't as long as he thought it was. "Um, did I snore? Could you sleep?"
"It was electric," she said. She finally looked at him. A slight smile crept into her lips. But then she turned her head back toward the television, and her face was gone like a fleeting thought.
Still, he felt relieved. Though it was dark and she was lit strangely by the television, she was even more fetching without the buzz of alcohol influencing him. Of course, there was the influence of her being as naked as the day she was born that maybe swayed his opinion.
"What time is it?" asked Sebastian.
"Good morning," she said.
"Is it morning?"
"It's morning somewhere," she replied.
"Well, thank you, Sherlock," he said. He thought for a moment. No, her name wasn't Sherlock. He tried to blink out the memory of her name but couldn't seem to grab at it.
"My name's Regan, by the way," she said, as if she could pluck his thoughts from out of his brain.
"Of course," said Sebastian. "I know."
"I'm just saying," she said. "Because, you know..."
He nodded, mainly to himself since it was dark and she wasn't looking at him, though he wasn't sure what he was supposed to know.
"Well, it's just embarrassing because I don't remember yours," said Regan.
"Sebastian," he said.
"You don't look like a Sebastian," she said.
"Then who do I look like?" asked Sebastian.
"Hmm," she said. "How about Julius?"
"Julius?" he said. He chuckled before he realized that maybe he shouldn't have. He cleared his throat. "Sorry about the apartment," he said in a bid to change the subject. "It's a mess." He looked around. And it's also very small, and there might be roaches, and the environmental conditioner acts up like it has a mind of its own, he thought.
"Oh, don't worry about it," she said. "I pretty much only saw the bedroom."
"Oh, heh," said Sebastian.
"What do you do again?" asked Regan.
"Um," he said. At first, the thought of making up something flashed into his mind, but then he realized that she had already seen his small apartment and seemed satisfied with his crappy TV. Besides they had exchanged tongues, and she was still here. "You know the automatic doors that open... automatically? Shoom. Like magic."
"You make them?"
"I fix them," said Sebastian. "Like magic."
"But you make them open," said Regan.
"And close," he said. "If they only opened, then they'd just be holes in walls."
"So you just fix doors?" she asked.
"Just doors," he said.
"That's kind of a specific task," she said.
"There're a lot of doors out there," said Sebastian.
"So it all begins with you," said Regan. "A mother needs food for her kids. The little ones are all crying and shit. So she goes to the market, and you're the one who makes sure she gets in."
Not really, he thought. This time, he made sure not to say anything out loud. Sometimes thoughts weren't meant to be said out loud.
"You should try a different perspective sometime," she said. Regan looked at him and tilted her head. "What?" she asked.
"What what?" he said. "Didn't you say you were born on the moon?"
She nodded.
"Hey, you know..." he said, waggling his head back and forth, as if shaking water from his ears. "You know, there's a specific task that I have in mind."
"Oh, really?"
He slid his palm against the sheets until his hand was a few inches from her. He waited a moment. He waved his hand on the bed back and forth and waited again. There was no objection; she simply sat with her knees against her chest. He crept his hand closer until he touched her leg. There was a slight shudder of her thigh, but she didn't mind. He brushed the back of his hand against the underside of her thigh.
"Hmm," she said. She lowered her legs and pinned his hand under her thigh. She smiled.
"You're gonna cut the blood to my hand," said Sebastian.
"Well, here's hoping the blood goes to some other part then," she said. She scooted over toward Sebastian. She rocked against his hand and gave his knuckles quite the tour.
"It's working," he said.
Regan let him up. She pulled him forward and kissed him. Her tongue wrestled his down. She pushed forward and pressed her lips against his. He tried to pull away, to catch his breath.
"Don't," she whispered. She grabbed the sides of his head with both her hands and yanked him close until they kissed again.
He grumbled and mumbled and struggled to pull away. But he couldn't. His nostrils flared but sucked in only a flood of orange blossoms. His face turned red. His cheeks began to quiver. His face contorted.
When she finally pulled away and stopped the kiss, she reached and squeezed his lips together. His cheeks were now blue. He shook until he swallowed. His throat popped like the fizz of soda. She let go. His shoulders wrenched back, and he tumbled off the bed and crumpled into a pile against the wall.
His head was dizzied up. He tried to shake it off, but that only made it more so. "What did you do to me?" shouted Sebastian.
He could feel something in his throat. He coughed and tried to clear it. But he couldn't. He stuck a finger down his throat. His finger searched around and clawed and tried to reach what he couldn't reach. All he did was return his dinner back to the world. He vomited onto his chest and then emptied his bladder all over his legs.
"Sorry, it looks like you had an accident," she said.
Sebastian flailed his arms. He tried to grab at her, but his legs didn't even seem to work. "What did you do to me? What was that?"
"That, that was a million thoughts, Sebastian," she began. "A million thoughts of being. And one will latch onto you and take root and grow into a new life. But don't worry, Sebastian. You will be gone, but whoever you will come to be will be great."
Sebastian collapsed. His limbs were barely his. Regan cradled him in her arms. He could feel it. He could feel the thought enter his mind. He could feel it take over, this thought that he would never have thought. It consumed him; it consumed all his thoughts and all his memories and all his feelings.
"Come on, Julius," she said. "It's time to wake up. It's time to build a better world."
For a moment, Sebastian and Julius existed together in that one mind. And for a moment, Sebastian and Julius saw the world together in a weird mélange of mundanity and brilliance. And for that moment, for that moment before Sebastian slipped away and before Julius came to being, all the two could think about was that when Adam reached a finger outward, he received the touch of God, but when they did, all they got was vomit and piss and, apparently, a massive erection.
