Loni's World:  Vixan Flight  Part 3 
by Tony Lee Gomes
Welcome to VIX! The female-dominated planet of the far future!


SOME BACKGROUND: The year is 4798. A thousand years before, a new world was
colonized, 88 light years from Old Earth. This earthlike planet was discovered
and called Clairvis. Then, 175 years later, when a group of female supremacist
geneticists took over the government, the planet was renamed Vix. Now, Old
Earth is ancient history -- its civilization destroyed by war, pestilence and
strife -- but the genetically-engineered descendants of humans live on, here
on the planet Vix!

Within several generations, this group of militant feminist geneticists, under
the veil of a secretive corporation called GENEX, succeeded in
genetically-engineering the planet's people into a new race, a
female-dominated race. Vixan women are built like Amazons -- tall, strong, and
athletic. Their brains are hardwired to be more logical and sharper at
mathematics and reasoning than their males' brains.

Vixan women have broad shoulders, long legs, strong arms, and although the
"secondary sex characteristic" of breasts has been preserved, their breasts do
not give milk and their nipples are not "erogenous zones" for sexual pleasure
-- because Vixan females are not the nurturing sex. Furthermore, Vixan females
have been forever freed of pregnancy and childbirth. Although Vixan men and
women have normal, vaginal sexual relations, fertilization to perpetuate the
Vixan race takes place in vitro, and gestation on Vix takes place in public
laboratories called "gestatoria", where newborn infants are born, then sent to
"childorms" to be reared by male nannies called "chatties".

Vixan males are shorter and physically weaker than their females. With a
penis, moustache and some body hair, and no breasts, Vixan males resemble the
males of Old Earth. But they are really a brave new breed of males -- with
narrow, pert shoulders and broad, curvaceous hips. With their voluptuous,
hourglass-shaped bodies designed for one thing -- passion -- Vixan males are
slaves to their naughty sexual desires, and lust after the tall, beautiful,
athletic Amazons who run their government, fight their wars, fly their
spaceplanes, and rule their planet.

And now, we continue with the story of Loni Taormina and his world...

****

Gamma Lyrae had risen a bright yellow above the low, chalky white mountains
that punctuated the otherwise flat terrain of Denara's horizon. As the star
made its quick climb, the violet pre-dawn sky had faded to a sandy gray and
then a near white.

In his flowing, black lace nylex negligee, Loni stood at the balcony of his
room on the 19th floor of the STA Apex Hotel. The view faced away from the
small city of Apex, toward the Apex Flats south of the city. Their flight had
landed late the night before. With the sky pitch black and a chill in the
nighttime air, Loni and Cleo arrived on Denara a bit haggard from four days in
space. The two men disembarked and rode a ground shuttle, over an elevated
bridge, from the spaceport to the hotel.

A cool morning breeze fluttered through the soft, diaphanous material of
Loni's negligee, lightly caressing the smooth skin of his otherwise nude body.
The sheer negligee was cut to expose one shoulder, and the breeze swept his
hair, tickling his morning skin. With one hand, Loni held the plasteel railing
of the balcony. In his other hand he held a tall, slender glass of tasty
champagne from the kitchenette. He took a sip, letting the chilled, fizzy
liquid tickle his tongue. He enjoyed the breeze. As the champagne tickled the
roof of his mouth, the breeze fluttered through his lacy lingerie and tickled
his skin underneath. It even tickled his toes, exposed as they were in his
fuzzy-puffed, spike-heeled boudoir-style mules.

With his free hand, Loni slipped his hand inside the delicate wraparound
negligee and scratched his testicles, lingering on the crunchy nest of pubic
hair that surrounded them. With the long, sharp nail of his middle finger, he
lightly diddled the underside of his cock. It felt so good, sent a shiver
through his body. He had the usual morning semi-erection.

Out among the wispy cirrus clouds, skycars zoomed in all directions. Mostly
they headed to the southwest, toward Denara City, carrying their drivers to
work and to school in the morning rush hour. In the far-off distance, through
the morning haze, Loni glimpsed what appeared to be the towers and metroplexes
of a city skyline. It appeared to be the direction most of the skycar traffic
was flying.

That must be Denara City, he thought. His heart raced. The excitement of a big
city - any big city - was always appealing to a young man, ready for
adventure. Loni craved adventure. A brand new city, on a new world. That was
the most exciting thing about this excursion. With his fingernail, Loni
diddled more intently at the sensitive underside of his stiffening penis. His
body quivered with a rush of anticipation. The lacy nylex of his negligee
fluttered about his skin. He wanted to be in that city now.

His eyes scanned the rest of the horizon. The ambient in this part of Denara
was spartan and functional-looking. No trees were visible for kilometers
around; the only sign of vegetation appeared to be a few isolated cacti amidst
the expanses of sand and rocks.

The chalky, flat plains leading to the horizon were mostly empty, but
decorated randomly with a curious network of rectilinear, woman-made lakes.
Some of the lakes were large, others were quite small. Some were square, some
rectangular or oddly L-shaped. Narrow waterways with paved sidewalls connected
some of these artificial lakes to one another. Here and there, the channels
were spanned by small concrite bridges which were in turn connected to
roadways, intersecting at right angles. Small, blocklike islands of concrite
sat in the middle of some of the lakes. Some of the islands appeared to be
busy places, like miniature cities in themselves, with their own buildings,
roads and ground traffic; others appeared to be no more than a few square
meters, and were empty. Occasionally, a skycar descended, landing on one of
the rectangular islands. On some of the islands, and adjacent to the water
channels, utilitarian-looking aluminum pipes and aqueducts glinted as the sun
climbed in the sky. Small, blocky buildings and bunkers, some sprouting
antennas, were situated along the roadways or by themselves, in the sandy-flat
desert. Groundcars and freight vehicles moved along the concrite-paved roads,
or parked at barren, flat unloading lots where their contents were loaded onto
skytrucks.

Low in the western sky, Paradys was a vast, slowly-turning blue-green ball,
three-quarters of its bulk beneath the horizon, its fine details blurred into
a dreamy pastel faintness by the morning mist. The planet was setting, dipping
slowly beneath the chalky hills.

Loni went back into his room to dress. Inside, the room's big wallhive was
tuned to the Systemwide News Network, the government's generic all-news
channel which the Systemwide Transportation Authority provided on all its
interplanetary flights and in all its hotel rooms. Randella Gentry, the male
newsreader, was droning on about a scientific mission to explore the polar
icecaps of the faraway planet Titania.

Loni's black, spike-heeled mule sandals clacked against the hard, sparklite
floor as he walked over to face the wallhive. Hands on his hips, Loni stared
at the delicate, prim features of the man on the screen. Randella Gentry was
wearing a magenta blouse cut at an angle to bare one dainty shoulder, in the
fashion of Loni's negligee. Gentry's shiny brown hair was chopped in a trendy
mullet, short and spikey in front and long on the sides. He had a small,
neatly-trimmed moustache, and his earrings were big, dangling like abstract
metal sculptures.

Gentry continued reading the boring report about the space mission to Titania,
where some astronaut left her landing shuttle and wandered into a crack in the
ice, sliding 300 meters down a hole full of methane gas, presumably to her
death. When her crewmates tried calling her by interlink, she didn't respond.

"Hive," Loni said. "Can you, like, show me some local sports, Denara sports."

"Checking, Mr. Taormina," said the Hive's familiar male voice. "There are four
local all-sports channels on Denara."

"Is there a Denara University sports channel?"

"Yes. Do you wish to view it?"

"Yes."

Suddenly the Hive was playing a live video feed from a Denara University
basketball game. It appeared to be a home game. The Denara girls were playing
one of the best teams in the system -- the Rockets from Gamelon Central
University. From the stands, the local fans cheered whenever the Denara girls
made a basket. The fans seemed a typical group -- largely a mixture of
well-scrubbed, rosy-cheeked high school girls in their headbands and gym
shorts, along with college students and men in their twenties. The game was in
the second quarter, and the Denara Darts had a slight lead.

"No, fuck! That's not what I want! I want volleyball. But I'll watch the
basketball anyway. For now."

"At your service, Mr. Taormina," said the hive voice.

Loni walked around the bed, to his set of teal-green plasticel suitcases. He
touched an illuminated red key on the largest of the cases. The suitcase
sprouted twin, panel-like legs from the bottom of either side, which
telescoped downward, raising the suitcase until it stood approximately Loni's
height.

"Travelbag open," he said. The raised suitcase sprung open, revealing small
partitions and shelves with items of clothing neatly pressed between them. An
entire wardrobe was contained within.

Loni pulled off his filmy black negligee and tossed it on the bed. He stood
fully naked, wearing nothing but his fuzzy spike-heeled mules.

>>From a side panel of the wardrobe, Loni pulled a nylex jockstring in
delicate, lacy black. He held it in front of him and inspected it the sheer,
stretchy fabric. Then he pulled the brief undergarment on, slipping one leg
and then the other through the lace. He inserted the tip and shaft of his
penis into the diaphanous, hoselike p-cup which formed the inner part of the
jockstring. He pulled the elastic nylex sidestrings of the garment up and over
the outward curves of his hips so the jockstring fit tightly. His flaccid
penis was ensheathed in the delicate electrostatic fabric of the
erection-proof p-cup. The cup lay flat and secure beneath the jockstring's
black, lacy front. From behind, Loni felt the tautness of the undergarment's
rear string, which fit snugly inside the crack of his buttocks.

"What to wear, what to wear?" Loni muttered to himself.

He touched a tiny, illuminated button inside the suitcase and a recessed shelf
slid outward. The shelf held a garment of delicate, dark-brown fabric, neatly
folded. Loni removed the garment and shook it, undoing its folds. He inspected
one of his favorite pairs of nylex capri stretchpants. The fabric was a rich,
dark brown yet its nanofibers seemed to shimmer elusively in the light. From
certain angles, the delicate fabric almost looked sheer. Loni loved the way
the stretchy nylex felt beneath his touch, and the way it hugged his curves.
When he wore these pants, they seemed painted on him. He pulled on the capris,
and the clingy material almost snapped into place around his broad hips and
generous buttocks. The pantlegs hugged the contours of his own legs, reaching
just above mid-calf level.

>>From another shelf in the suitcase, Loni chose a semi-sheer, dark brown
nylex blouse nanoprinted with a bold pattern of big, black roses. The blouse
was sleeveless and buttoned in front. He pulled the garment over his waiting,
bare shoulders. The delicate nanofiber material felt light and airy, tickling
his skin. The blouse had two "tails" of fabric in front which Loni tied
together tightly, cinching the garment above his waist.

Loni walked over to face the Hive again. "Hive," he ordered. "Give me
holomirror mode."

"Activating holomirror," said the hive voice.

Suddenly the Denara Darts basketball game on the wallhive dissolved and in its
place, Loni saw his own image, sharp and clear and full-sized, staring back at
him. He stood there, hands on his hips, assessing his appearance, and the fit
of his outfit. The brown and black blouse was tied high on his waist,
revealing Loni's well-tanned, taut midriff. His broad, curvaceous hips swelled
perfectly outward from the bare skin of his waist. Loni took a few mussed
strands of his long, tangled hair and mumbled a curse word or two. He splayed
one leg outward, rocking his foot on its high, spikey heel.

Loni walked over to the suitcase and touched another little illuminated
button. His jewelry drawer opened. Loni removed a small, aurite hoop with
fitted with a little crystallite synthetic gemstone. He inserted the metal
ring into his navel piercing. Loni fingered the ring in his navel with a
well-manicured nail. He walked back to the holomirror.

"Holo, give me a slow 360."

The holomirror slowly rotated Loni's image, so he could look at himself from
all possible angles. When his image was fully rotated so that Loni saw his
back in the holomirror, he instructed it to stop rotating. He faced the holo
directly. With a skill gained from years of experience, Loni moved his hips
slowly, examining his reflected image. Slowly and expertly, he ground his
broad hips and watched as they moved, accentuating the curves of his ample
buttocks, which swelled out like a beachball from the bare, tanned skin of his
slender waist. The skin-tight pants clung like a second skin, emphasizing his
ass, so big and round and full.

Loni grabbed his rear-end with his palm and squeezed a bit. With a quick whack
of his hand, he slapped his ample butt. He loved the way his curves felt --
and looked -- poured into these clingy nylex pants. In pants like these, it
was impossible for a man to hide his masculinity!

He looked down at the feathery puffs of black fuzz that adorned his
stiletto-heeled boudoir mules. "Ohh-hh shit... Shoes!" Loni said to himself.

He walked back to his suitcase and slipped off the boudoir mules. From within
one of the bottom recesses of the suitcase, Loni pulled out a new pair of
closed-toe simuleather pumps, in a rich, shiny brown accentuated with an
inlaid pattern of tiny black checks. The shoes had the pointed toes and high,
stiletto heels that were overwhelmingly popular these days.

Loni slipped the pumps on and they fit snugly, sharply complementing his
outfit. He returned to the holomirror and looked. Suddenly, the sleek,
sophisticated style and tight, closed-toe fit reminded him vaguely of the
conservative clothes a secretary like himself might wear to a business meeting
at the law firm back on Vix. Still, they were modern and sexy. The 10
centimeter spiked heels made him feel unambiguously masculine.

Returning to his wardrobe, Loni removed a delicate aurite chain from the
jewelry compartment, and fastened it around his left ankle. Then he removed
his bold aurite hoop earrings, and fastened them to his pierced earlobes. They
were medium-sized and slightly thicker than the usual fashion. He placed an
aurite bracelet, of similar design, around his right wrist.

He was almost ready. He returned to the holomirror which again showed the
frontal view. His hair was still a mess. From a smaller, teal-green suitcase
beside his bed, he removed his hairgun, a handheld device which cleaned the
hair with an invisible ionic beam, and rendered the strands soft, supple, and
manageable. He turned on the hairgun and passed it over his unkempt mane of
black hair. Within 90 seconds, his hair was cleaner and more lustrous -
although Loni didn't like to look too neat or prim. There was no need for
elaborate styling. He preferred the brazen, wild look of a slightly unruly
mane.

Now, he stood, legs apart, with his hands on his hips in an aggressive stance.
He stared at his real-time image in the holo. He cocked his hip to one side,
in a provocative pose. He was satisfied with the way the skin-tight, capri
pants accentuated his generous curves. The capri pants were flirty and
playful, but they were set off by his stylish new pumps, which projected a
more serious, businesslike look. And his bare midriff showed off firm, taught
abdominals. He touched the dimpled and tanned skin of his midriff and fingered
the glinting, suggestive navel ring.

At 0850, Loni and Cleo met for breakfast in the hotel restaurant on the 5th
floor.

Cleo was dressed in a loose, shiny smock in silky material, with a floral
pattern of green, gold, and red, and wide, three-quarter sleeves. The smock
hung loose over loose, palazzo-style dresspants in a shiny, metallic gold, in
the same type of silky fabric. His shoes were open-toed sandals with lowish
heels of about 4 centimeters. He wore small earrings of "embroidered" aurite,
and a thick aurite bracelet.

Loni stood at the entrance and eyed the large, blue and green holographic
letters which spelled out APEX RESTAURANT. Considering that the hotel was
called the STA-Apex Hotel, that the spaceport was the Apex Spaceport, and the
city they were in was called Apex, naming the restaurant the "Apex" wasn't
very original, Loni thought. Could this whole planet be as boring and
provincial as this place is? He sighed.

"Good morning, Loni!" Cleo said with a broad smile, taking Loni's hand.

"Shit, it's not that good a morning! I've got space-lag! I'm tired!" Loni
said.

"Isn't it exciting? We're on Denara!"

"Exciting? I just want to eat. That space food was, like, so bland. I've had
enough fucking squeeze-pack meals. I need something tasty!"

"Did you see the beautiful sunrise?"

"I saw some of it from my balcony. And that big planet in the sky on the other
side, I suppose that's Paradys?"

"Yes! Isn't it beautiful?"

"Oh, sure, it's beautiful. But I didn't come here to see planets in the sky. I
came here for other reasons..."

"Yeah, I know..."

"Ready to eat, gentlemen?" A young man, short, black-haired and voluptuous,
wearing a full-length white apron, black capri pants, and black pumps, stood
beside the two men.

"My name is Marlo, and I'll be your host this morning." Marlo pointed to a
sky-blue plasticel podium, with a small holoboard, standing to their right.
"Please swipe your hands over the servex."

Loni passed his palm over the holoboard. In a flash the space in front of it
lit up in blue with his name: "APOLLONIA NERO TAORMINA". A male voice emanated
from the servex. "Reading Apollonia Nero Taormina. Welcome to the Apex
Restaurant, Mr. Taormina. Please voice confirm."

"Where's the poached salmon casserole with savory olives nicoise and
mustard-custard?"

Cleo laughed. "Thank you, Mr. Taormina," said the servex.

Cleo passed his hand over the holoboard and was greeted similarly.

"Once I get some food into my starving body, then I can think... Like I said,
I came here for a reason," Loni said.

"Okay, let's go in and eat, and we'll talk about it!"

They sat down and ordered a hearty breakfast. Loni drank more champagne. For
dessert, the two men tore into bowls of tangy cherry parfait.

"Last night," Cleo said, "I called my wife. She said she can get you an
apartment at the DU dorms."

Loni's eyes lit up. "A whole apartment for me?" he said, surprised.

"A nice one, too. For as long as you want it. And free."

"Oh, Cleo, that would be incredible! But if I move to Denara, how will I
support myself? I mean, if I quit my job at the law firm, I'd get my
non-employment benefits, but I'm used to living on a bit more money than 1300
credits a month."

"We can get you a waitering job at the University. Doesn't pay much but you'd
probably get to keep some of your benefits. Plus you won't have to pay rent."

They decided to check out of the hotel after breakfast and fly to Denara City.

They took the turbolift down to the lobby floor. At the front desk, they asked
the concierge to have their luggage taken down and droned to Cleo's apartment
at the University, in Limnos Heights. They boarded the ground shuttle back to
the spaceport, where they waited at the D-A Corridor skytaxi platform. Cleo
passed his hand over a servex, summoning a skycab.

"Thank you for calling STA Skytaxi service, Mr. Marberg," the servex said.
"What is your destination today?"

"Mr. Taormina and I are going to the Denara University, Faculty Dorms, but
we'd like a tour of Denara first."

"Mr. Marberg, STA can offer you three tours. The 90-minute tour covers Limnos
Department, including the Apex region, Denara City, and the Terelite
Mountains. The 3-hour tour includes all of the above, plus the Northern
Hemisphere, including the Tiscali Mountain region... The 6-hour tour
includes..."

"Loni, how about the 6-hour tour?" Cleo said.

"Six hours? Screw that! I just want to see Denara City!" Loni said.

"Now, Loni, there are so many interesting things to see on Denara I don't know
where to start. There's Metaxa Canyon. There's the Felton Flats and the
Tiscali Mountains -- they're so beautiful! There's the G-37 Basin, and the
Renton Waterway...."

"Canyon? Waterway?" Loni huffed, incredulously. "I'm not interested in any of
that shit, Cleo. I want to see the city! I want to go nightclubbing, dancing!"

"But Loni, there's so much to see here! Aren't you excited? This isn't Vix,
it's a whole different world!"

"So what? I came here to see Darrelyn Bertling, not a bunch of fucking deserts
and mountains and woman-made rivers!"

"Just give us the 90-minute tour," Cleo said.

Loni huffed to himself, again. Momentarily, there was a whooshing hum in the
near-cloudless sky.

A red metallic skycab hovered over the landing pad, slowly descended, and came
to rest on the platform. On the craft's side was the stylized lyre-and-stars
logo of the Systemwide Transportation Authority, the STA.

In driver's seat sat an attractive young girl with medium-length, red hair.

As Cleo and Loni approached, the girl got out of the skycab. Loni's heart
quickened as he noted the driver was pleasantly tall and athletically-built.
As she came around to their side of the skycab, her bare legs flashed into
view. Now Loni could see that the young driver was extremely attractive. She
was dressed in brief blue shorts, white tennis shoes and ankle socks, and a
tight beige T-shirt with a red STA logo with the words, "Skytaxi Service",
above her left breast.

The girl stopped in front of them, smiling, and politely bowed at the waist.

"Good morning, gentlemen!" the girl beamed, her full lips parted to reveal
perfect, gleaming teeth. She squinted in the sun. "Welcome to Denara. I'm
Jillian Bradford, your driver." She looked at Cleo. "Mr. Marberg?" she asked.

"That's me."

"Mr. Tower-meena?"

"Close enough. It's Tah-ormina." Loni looked up at the beaming red-headed
girl. Jillian Bradford had a fair, flawless complexion, full red lips, and
sparkling blue eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "Mr. Tah-ormina. You gentlemen wanted the 90-minute
tour today?"

Loni guessed she must have been 186 centimeters tall. Her red hair fell in
bangs over her forehead, and she wore a white headband with which she had
pulled the rest of her hair behind her ears. Her shoulders were broad, her
arms well-muscled. Loni tried to be discreet as his eyes followed the
athletic, well-formed contours of her long, bare legs. Typical for a girl of
her generation, her legs provided most of her height. Loni gulped silently.

"Loni, did you want the 90-minute tour?" Cleo asked.

"Is the tour - only 90 minutes?"

"Uhhh! You can take us - around," said Cleo, almost stuttering. "We're, uhh -
new here. At least Loni is. I've been to Denara before. I suggested we go on a
- uhhh, a tour?" He looked backward. To his surprise, Loni was standing
several steps behind him. "Uhhh - right, Loni?"

"Uh, yeah. A tour would be nice," said Loni, gulping.

"Loni, the length of the tour is up to you. I'm just along for the ride. I've
seen it all before. Tell Jillian what you want, Loni." Cleo smiled.

"I - I just want to, like, see Denara," Loni said, walking toward Jillian. "I
heard it's a beautiful planet. Uhh, moon. Cleo - you're coming along, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll come along. Unless you'd like to spend the day touring around
the planet together - just the two of you? What do you need an old, married
guy like me tagging along with you for, right?"

Jillian, hands on her hips, popped herself up on her tip-toes. She cast a
sidelong glance downward at Cleo, her lips pressed together in a look of
youthful curiosity.

Loni gulped once again. He spun around on his stiletto heels, noticing now he
was standing in front of Cleo, and closer to Jillian. "Cleo, I'm - I'm not
just here to fu -fool around. I'm here to see this planet!"

"Jillian," said Cleo. "Maybe you can help Loni see the things he wants to see.
He's just in from Vix, just visiting here. Loni would like to see the
Tiscalis. He wants to see Metaxa Canyon, the Flats. You know, all that good
tourist stuff."

"It sounds like he wants the full tour, then," Jillian said. "The whole six
hours?"

"I would think so. And after the tour he wants to visit the University. My
wife teaches economics there. I'm guessing you're a student there at DU - am I
right, Jillian?"

"Denara University? Oh no, Mr. Marberg, not yet!" she giggled. "I'm in high
school. I go to Fairlington High, here in Apex."

"Just a high school student? Wow, the high school girls sure are getting tall
these days! Isn't Jillian tall, Loni?"

"Y-yah. She is." Loni's hands were on his hips. He looked up at Jillian. "But
actually she's about average for high school girls now."

"How tall are you, Jillian?"

"Call me Jill," she giggled. "All my friends do. I'm 187 centimeters."

"And you're in what grade - you're in the 12th grade at Fairlington?" asked
Cleo.

"Oh, no! Not there yet. I'm just a 10th grader."

"A 10th grader? My, you're a young one. I guess you tricked me since you're so
tall. Hmmm, 10th grade. How old does that make you, Jill?"

"I'm sixteen," she smiled.

Loni's heart crashed with a thud.

"My, my, my," said Cleo. "Sixteen years old. They let girls fly skycabs at
sixteen, now? Huh, Jill?"

"Sixteen?" Loni almost shouted. "And you're a skycab pilot? Shouldn't you be
in school studying, like, trigonometry?"

"Oh, I'm finished with that!" she giggled, her eyes filled with sunshine.
"Just about all the girls get a driver's permit at fifteen or sixteen.
Actually, I'm off from school and working through spring break. Might as well
put that skycar permit to use!"

"Loni, why don't you sit up front next to Jill?" said Cleo, as they stepped
toward the skycab's open hatch.

Loni leered at Cleo with that faint, seething look of subliminal hostility
that could only be conveyed from one male to another.

"Well, you two are the young people," Cleo said. "It's only right that the
young people should sit together, up front."

They boarded the vehicle, Jillian and Loni up front, Cleo with the back seat
to himself. Jillian touched several illuminated buttons on the control panel.
A compact, but complicated-looking display of dials and screens lit up on the
console in front of her. A small satellite holoscreen showed an aerial view of
the skypad, looking downward with Jillian's skycab in the center. Jillian
grasped the twin throttle sticks. Three short tones sounded over the cabin
omnivox signaling preparation for takeoff. The hatches swung down and snapped
shut.

Jillian said, "Here we go, gentlemen." She pulled back on the throttle and
touched a few more illuminated buttons - red ones, yellow ones, blue ones. The
dials and screens on the control console came to life, as the craft slowly
rose into the morning sky.

"Hmmmm..." said Cleo, from the back seat. "Tell me, Jill. Ahh, what model
skycab is this, honey?"

"Oh," she said, throwing her head back with a big smile, her hands firmly on
the throttle. She looked sidelong at Cleo. "It's a Cloudex Volair 9000-B. So,
you're into skycars?"

"Hmmm... I like a nice, smooth ride. I know something about skycars. What kind
of engine?"

"It's a twin-shaft Vibrio Gravomag Qestor 32," she said, efficiently.

"Oh yeah? What's the maximum, uh, gravomag capacity on this baby?"

"You mean the maximum flux capacity in the gravomag generators?"

"Yeah. What you said."

"Well, it's 370 JPS at planar acceleration and 285 JPS at 45 degrees."

"Hmmm... Interesting. What's the restoration range, honey?"

"You mean the VR rate, the vectoral restoration rate?"

"Of course."

"It's 93 tera-amps per hour, times whatever the QR rate - the quantum
replenishment rate -- is. Usually that's about 60,000 gigaparts per second,
flying in city traffic."

"Wow..." said Cleo.

"But out over the desert, with the Q-navs - the quantum navigational
capacitors -- at full throttle, it's more like half a million GPS --
gigaparticles per second."

"Cool. I can tell you know your skycar mechanics and your quantum mechanics,
too! You're a bright young girl, Jill!"

"Thanks, Mr. Marberg," Jill giggled softly.

As they soared through the skies above the Apex region, Jillian pointed out
some of the sights below. Apex City was a relatively small metropolis
dominated by the spaceport and surrounded on three sides with artificial lakes
and waterways that glinted in the sunlight.

Jillian steered the craft to the northeast, high above the chalky-white
terrain, littered with rocks, artificial pools, and small buildings and skycar
landing pads.

Suddenly, the surface dropped into sheer, rocky cliffs below them. A deep
depression in the land opened up, where the terrain took on a crusty look and
a light, cindery tone. A crater rim? Loni peered out the window. Ahead of them
loomed a vast, curving concrite tower, which looked to be hollowed out in the
center, like a donut.

In the tower's center hole, the gigantic metal blades of a huge, circular fan
spun fiercely around a central hub that looked like the upright nosecone of a
space cruiser, only much bigger.

Surrounding the huge concrite tower were numerous large, austere buildings,
like a small city. Transparent plexilite transitubes conducted skycar traffic
from one building to the next. At the occasional elevated skycar pad,
skytrucks were landing or taking off.

Jillian swung the throttle levers, banking Jill's side of the craft downward
and making it trace a giant arc, a hundred meters above the tower.

"That's the Apex Regional Fusion Plant," she said, matter-of-factly, as she
slowly righted the craft.

"Cool!" said Loni, looking down at the power plant. She looked at Jillian.
"Nice move! Can you, like, do that again?"

"Oh, why not?" she grinned. This time, Jill pulled the throttle back and spun
the craft upward, away from the fusion plant tower, in a much wider arc. They
climbed and climbed, soaring faster, as she broadened their arc outward,
outward - until the power plant looked tiny and far away.

"You meant like this, right?" They were still moving very fast - Cleo noticed
the velocimeter said 410 kilometers per hour. Now Jillian banked the craft
again sharply, turning it inward, soaring at breakneck speed and bearing down
fast, in a tricky, disorienting maneuver, on the tower below.

Loni giggled, then broke into nervous, uncontrollable laughter. And as the
wildly-changing g-forces overwhelmed the craft's inertial dampeners, his
laughter turned into a full-on scream. They were diving almost straight down.
They seemed to be falling, falling -- into the huge, chopping blades of the
tower's rotating fan!

"YEEEYAAAAAAH!" Loni squealed, his face red and his eyes bulging, half in
terror and half in excitement. "YAAAAAH! AAAAAAGHHHH!!!" he screamed as he
looked downward, at the tower and the spinning blades below. Loni grasped at
the safety-grips around his seat.

As the skycab nosedived, it seemed to travel faster and faster, spinning in
smaller and smaller circles... Loni was terrified as he saw the spinning
blades turn directly below them. "AAAAAGGGHH!!" he screamed.

Bu just when they seemed to be doomed, Jillian expertly pulled back on the
twin throttle sticks, pulling one faster than the other. As they neared 30
meters above the tower and its terrifying blades, Jill righted the craft and
simultaneously spun it outward, into a wider arc, and - gratefully - further
away from the tower, to safety in the open sky above the buildings below.

Loni's screams of terror didn't exactly stop, but gradually changed back into
uncontrollable, giddy laughter. His eyes were still bulging almost out of
their sockets, his mouth was agape, and even the Maluvian olive of his cheeks
had turned a sultry, frightened red.

As Jillian righted the craft and Loni's squealing continued, finally subsiding
in a few wails. He grabbed the safety-grips, shuddered to regain his
composure, huffed and puffed to regain his breath.

"Wow!" Loni said, with a tone of appreciation in his voice. "That was so
exciting, Jill! That was, like, incredible! Where did you learn to fly like
that?"

"Oh, just in flight education, at school. Well, actually, they don't teach
that maneuver in school, I just learned it with my friends."

"Sweet!" Loni said. He bent down in his seat to scratch a persistent itch on
his calf. More relaxed now, he sat back and crossed one leg over the other,
kicking his leg up and down. He looked at the fashionable brown and black
pattern on his high-heeled shoe, as his leg rocked nonchalantly.

"Cleo?" said Loni. "Did you say you liked my new Ultrados or not?" He pointed
to his stiletto-heeled shoe.

>>From the back seat, Cleo looked at Loni's shoe. "You mean your shoes? Very
nice style. I don't know if I'd look right in those, though. Those stiletto
heels are what you young guys wear."

"I don't know, I like the shoes Jillian is wearing!" Loni said. "I mean they
look good on Jill, of course."

"Thanks," Jillian said.

"Very cute tennis shoes, Jill. I like it when girls have good taste in shoes,"
Loni said.

Loni looked at Jillian. "Jill, you know any shopping malls around here? I need
to pick up some jockstrings. And maybe a pair or two of shoes. Strappy
stiletto sandals, for dancing. I'm hungry, too. Let's have lunch!"

"Jockstrings?" said Cleo, surprised at Loni's choice of language in Jill's
company. Cleo laughed, not knowing whether to be embarrassed or simply amused.

As Cleo laughed, the craft suddenly zipped into a skyport. Loni blinked as the
scenery outside the craft changed dramatically. Jillian was now flying the
craft through a clear-blue transitube, inside a huge building like a
metroplex. They swept through an enormous atrium, past floors of offices and
illuminated storefronts, walkways with busy employees and shoppers milling
about. Around them, other transitubes conducted skycar traffic in different
directions.

"This is the Midflats Metroplex. There are all the shops you want in here -
the Crystal Emporium, with men's clothing stores, restaurants, everything!"
Jillian said.

Inside the transitube, Jillian flew the skycab amidst the mid-morning traffic.
When they reached a junction terminus, Jill steered the craft out of the
transitube, into the open air of the atrium. Above and to the left, a large
pedestrian plaza beckoned, surrounded with open-air cafes and restaurants. The
plaza jutted out into the open air, overhanging the atrium. Jill pulled back
on the throttle, slowing the craft and guiding it toward the red lights of a
skyport a couple of levels above the plaza. Once in the skyport, Jill slowed
the craft. Expertly, she hovered and swung the craft into a small parking
space between two other skycars. They landed with a small thud of the front
and rear landing gear.

Still somewhat dizzy and disoriented from their thrill ride, Loni looked out
the window at the atrium, where skycars were zipping by.

The skycab's hatch swung open and Loni stepped down, being careful to plant
his high heels squarely on the ground. A cacophony of voices swept through the
air, and a loud Toni Marlowe song, "Don't Tease Me Tonight", was playing from
an omnivox.

Loni, Cleo, and Jill walked over to a clear plexilite turbolift, and descended
to two floors below. The Toni Marlowe song was louder when they got out. Loni
walked ahead of Cleo and Jill, singing along with Toni Marlowe....

"When I touch can't get enough, I'm dreaming, scheming. Play it light or play
it rough, I'm screaming for your kiss. But baby doll, please don't tease,
please don't tease me tonight. Baby girl, you are my world, so don't put up a
fight. Baby doll, I can't resist, so please don't tease me, don't tease me
tonight."

Along the sides of the plaza, moving walkways carried people to and from
appointments. A large fountain dominated the center of the plaza, and exotic
hanging plants cascaded down from big planters lining the perimeter of a
mezzanine floor above them.

The plaza jutted out about 60 meters into the vast space of the atrium above
and below them. Loni arrived first at the rail at the edge of the plaza. He
looked outward. From this vantage point, the clear blue and red transitubes,
with tiny-looking skycars flitting through them, looked like a network of
veins or capillaries inside a giant's cavernous body. Here and there a free
skycar flew to some inconvenient destination not accessible by transitube.

The opposite wall of the atrium was some 400 meters away, fifty floors up and
down, and filled with offices, schools, restaurants, shopping centers, and
residential apartments. At the very bottom of the atrium, hundreds of meters
below, was a large artificial lake, housing some kind of resort, with islands
and bridges, tennis courts, and what looked like octagonal-shaped bungalows.
Skycars landed on rooftop pads, and ground shuttles roved along grassy hills
and paved trails.

Up on the plaza, Loni, Cleo, and Jill strolled to a café and swiped their
hands over a servex to announce their arrival, before being seated. A waiter
named Nikki came to take their orders.

For refreshments, Cleo ordered a lime vodka, Loni ordered a sweet cherry vodka
with extra cherry juice, and Jill ordered a non-alcoholic iced mintea.

Nikki placed the drinks on the table. The men's flavored vodkas were adorned
with exotic tropical flowers in the glasses. As the three sipped their cold
drinks, Loni sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. He kicked the upper
leg playfully. "Cleo, why did you, like, grill Jillian on all that skycar
stuff?"

"Grill her on what?"

"The skycar, the engine, all of that? Don't you think she knows what she's
doing?"

"Oh, I know she knows what she's doing. I just wanted to prove it to you. It
seemed like you couldn't believe a skycab driver could be only sixteen."

"But all those questions? You understand all that stuff, Cleo?"

"Of course I don't." He turned to Jill. "Jill, did I sound like I understood
any of that stuff?"

"Well, I don't know," she said. "You did, a bit."

"Jill, I was mostly faking it. I was just imitating words I hear women use
when they talk about skycars and engines and all that. I don't know anything
about skycar engines myself!"

"You had me fooled," Jill said, sipping on her mintea with a straw.

"They don't make men learn all that technical stuff," Cleo said. "Not even
when I was your age!"

"Yeah. I could never put up with having to learn that kind of crap," Loni
said.

"It's important to know all that technical stuff, isn't it, Jill?" Cleo said.

"Well, you should."

"Give us an example. Tell us why it's important to know all that technical
stuff, to drive a skycar."

"Well, you have to know things like calculating your energy dissipations. Or,
like, when you're climbing and accelerating, knowing what affects your JPS
decay and declination, and AM fall-off. That's - for angular momentum. For
different banking angles and trajectories. It's just basic trigonometry and
vectors. Like how to calculate your optimal landing speed using vectoral
analysis. Some physics and basic quantum phys. Like with fuel cell flux and
nav-capacitors. Or how the VR rate affects your safe turning radius,
especially near a walled structure."

"Isn't she cute, Loni? Listen to all that girl talk!"

"Girl talk?" Jill said, a bit defiantly. "That's just basic stuff you have to
know to fly - "

"Well, Jill, those things are very easy for you, I'm sure, because you're a
girl," said Cleo. "Did you actually think I understood any of that stuff?"

"Uh..."

"Jill, there's a reason they banned men from getting skycar licenses. Because
we men can't understand any of that, and you need to really understand that
stuff." He laughed softly. "Especially with all those complicated controls and
gadgets they have these days."

"Well, like, couldn't a man try flying?" Jill asked, seriously. "There are
still some men your age who keep their skycar licenses active, right?"

"Sure, there are some, they're around my age, even older actually, but it's
fewer and fewer every year. Men shouldn't be behind the controls of a skycar.
We'd cause too many accidents. Right, Loni?"

"Hmmm?" Loni said. He was gazing out at the atrium, watching the multi-colored
transitubes with the traffic flitting through them. He hadn't been paying
attention.

"I was just telling Jill that there's a reason that men don't fly skycars
anymore," said Cleo. "I'm 46. I'm an old fogey. I remember when men used to
fly. When I was 18, I even thought of getting my license. But even then, there
were very few guys who really wanted to fly. It was getting pretty rare. Males
were causing too many accidents behind the throttle. There were a few guys who
insisted on flying, though."

"Really?" asked Jillian, inquisitively.

"Oh, yeah. Back then, we had more of those 'career men'. That's what we used
to call them. I remember I had a friend, Kerri Lavallette. He was 21 and he
was a real show-off, making lots of money teaching Maluvian in the VDF
linguistics academy in South Sidonia. So one Saturday night, he's flying his
brand new Helix 800, and he got into such a bad accident! Nearly killed
himself and two other guys, flying home at night from a concert, outside
Metroplex Delta. He wasn't paying attention and flew right into the side of a
landing platform. They fell and crash landed on top of a transitube."

"Ooooh," said Jill, her wet lips pursing into a perfect circle. "What a
horrible thing to happen!"

"I'll never forget that accident because the next year, they finally banned
new skycar licenses for men," Cleo said. "But that was my generation, almost
30 years ago. Now even my generation is irrelevant to the issue - we're the
past. You guys are the new generation," said Cleo. "You guys are the future."

Cleo leaned in his seat forward to address Jill. "Loni is 27."

"Cleo, I'm not officially 27 until next month," Loni said.

"Okay, you're 26 going on 27. They banned giving new skycar licenses to men in
768. What was that -- 29 years ago? That was two years before you were born,
Loni."

"I guess."

"Since you were born, Loni, men aren't learning to fly anymore. The age of
males flying skycars is long past."

Cleo looked at Jill, expecting a response. "Jill, Loni and you are members of
the new generation!"

Jillian smiled and cocked her head. Her blue eyes twinkled. "Yeah, I guess
we're the future, right?" she said softly. Loni caught a quick glance at
Jillian's legs. Like his, they were crossed underneath the table, and,
stretching a bit, she shifted her long, bare right leg outward, so he could
see it better.

"Jill, do you have a boyfriend?" Cleo asked.

"No, not yet." She let out a low, almost compulsory giggle.

"When you do start dating, get ready to fly your boyfriend around all over,
because these men today are very demanding. They want to go to concerts, and
boutiques, nightclubs, dancing... And they like girls who are good fliers!"

"Okay, I'll remember that!" Jill smiled.

"And Jill, the younger men today, the guys Loni's age, and your age, are
attracted to girls who can fly well, girls who are confident behind the
controls."

Jill didn't answer that.

"Do you know why that is, Jill?"

"Hmm?" she said, as if she didn't understand the question at first. "Do I know
why the younger men are attracted to girls who can fly well?"

"That's what I asked you."

"Mmm..." She pursed her lips intently. "Because the girls can take them
anywhere they want to go - as fast as they want to, right?" She smiled
broadly, as if sharing in a joke.

"No," said Cleo seriously. "It's not that, Jill. Guess again."

"Maybe we should ask Mr. Taormina."

"No, honey. I don't want you to ask Loni. I want you to guess again! Why do
the men Loni's age find it attractive when a girl can handle a skycar well?"

Jillian looked at Cleo, her blue eyes large and bright, her full red lips
pursed.

"Just think about it now, Jill, because I'm sure Loni finds your flying
attractive! Don't you, Loni?"

"Oh, shut up, Cleo!" said Loni, fighting embarrassment. He stirred his cherry
vodka with a swizzle-stick.

"It's not so much that you can take a man where he wants to go," Cleo
continued. "It's that the man feels excited just going there, with a
confident, competent girl at the controls. It's about that attraction males
have for strong, confident, smart females. I know about the young generation
today, Jill. I teach two art classes, nothing but young male students, Loni's
age. Actually, between your age and Loni's age, because you two aren't that
far apart. The younger men, in your generation, Jill - even more than back in
my day - young men today want women who are leaders. Women who can take
command!"

Loni cast a noxious stare at Cleo. "Cleo, how would you like a kick in the
nads?" he threatened.

"I think you two have a lot more in common than I do with either of you. In
fact, I should just ask you to drop me off at the nearest shopping mall, Jill,
and let you take Loni on the rest of the tour. I'm sure he'll appreciate that.
I'll go to the servex and hivelink 500 more credits into your personal account
for you, Jill."

Her eyes lit up. "You will?" she said. "Thank you so much, Mr. Marberg! I
don't know what I can do to make it up to you. I don't generally make more
than 50 credits a day in this job!"

"Let me make it 1000 credits. But I want you to make it worth every credit for
Loni. He's a bachelor and he works very hard back on Vix. Loni is a legal
secretary. Not a glamorous job. He's stressed. He needs some fun. Show him all
the sights. And get him over to Denara City by tonight. He wants to go out
dancing. Take him to a dance club."

Loni's expression was a mix of consternation and surprise, but inside he felt
that odd, upsetting, embarrassing kind of delight, deep in the pit of his
stomach - one of those piquant emotions he knew had felt before, but rarely.
He sat there, looking down as if to avoid both their faces, crinkled his lips
and absently stirred circles in his cherry vodka.

"Mr. Marberg, I'm not old enough to go into most of the clubs," Jillian said.
"Remember, I'm only sixteen. I don't think they'd let me into the kind of
clubs Mr. Taormina wants to go to."

Loni kept his gaze downward and off Cleo and Jillian. His arms stretched out
on the table, he played with his drink and swizzle stick. His legs were
crossed under the table, and in his familiar fashion, he rocked the upper leg
to some unheard rhythm. Right now it was the best he could do -- like a cheap
substitute for talking.

"Well, think of something to do," Cleo said. "Do you have a curfew at your
dorm, Jill?"

"It's not really enforced during spring break," Jillian said.

"Good. Go out and have fun. And then hivelink me in the morning. Bring Loni
back to my condo at the University tomorrow, no later than - uh... 1000 hours.
That's the faculty residences in Limnos Heights. Okay? I'll cook a nice
brunch. My wife and I will be expecting you."

As Loni poked and swirled his swizzle stick through his remaining sweet cherry
vodka, he thought of that morning at the hotel, standing there on the balcony
in that sheer, black lace negligee and his spike-heeled fuzzy boudoir mules.
He recalled the romantic sensation of the cool wind fluttering through the
lacy nylex and tickling his skin. He remembered Denara's morning breeze
caressing his bare shoulder. And he remembered how he looked forward to the
excitement of Denara City.

"Mr. Taormina, where would you like to go first?" Jill asked.

"Okay. Rule Number One. If we're going to be together all day, you can quit
with this Mr. Taormina shit. I'm not your employer, and I'm certainly not your
chatty."

"Jill," said Cleo calmly, "I think he'd rather be called Loni."

Loni turned to Jill. "Actually, I'd rather you called me Apollonia. In fact it
would be nice if more people called me that. It is my full name, you know."