"The Key To Love"
by Richard E. Geis
from
Sir Knight
Vol. 1, No. 11, 1959
Paul Grennell took a slug
of whiskey from his flask and carefully threw off his cape and tunic. A
few seconds later he slipped into bed beside the waiting silent figure
of a woman.
He threw down the covering and feasted his
eyes on her perfect body. If anything she was too perfect, too lush and
exciting.
He smiled wryly to himself. You get what you
pay for.
Now she was cold and unresponsive, but he
knew the moves and pressures that would galvanize her into exciting passionate
embraces. He took a last disgusted look at the old 1975 President Carr
decor of the room and waved his hand at the bed switch. As the walls faded
into darkness he turned to her.
She responded to his kiss and expert caress.
Her body seemed to come to life under his hands.
"Honey," she said," you're terrific. You're
wonderful. What a man!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, more to himself
than her. "I know what you'll say next, too."
"You're what every girl dreams about. Hold
me tight! Squeeze me!"
"He gritted his teeth and did as she instructed.
It was the only way to get what he wanted. He pressed and fondled with
the excited half-boredom of long practice. In return her hand sought him
blindly.
A minute later she said, "Now, honey. I'm
ready now."
"You know it," he whispered. "Right on schedule."
They blended into a throbbing moving union.
As he was approaching the end of his climb to the peak of sensation her
groans deepened and sank into lower registers. Her body stopped moving.
Cursing, Paul sent his hands over the sensitive
areas of her figure to re-awaken the passion. But it was fruitless. She
was frigid again, unresponsive. Nothing he said or did could bring back
those few golden moments.
"Of all the lousy, cheating--" Muttering oaths
to himself he waved on the lights and pressed a button at the head of the
bed. He did not look at the naked, silent figure besides him.
In a moment an older woman entered the room.
She was dressed in the highest fashion of the new century. A large chain
of outsized keys hung from her wide green belt. "Yes, Paul?"
Paul stood before her, naked and mad. "She
stopped before I was finished!"
The woman clucked her tounge and smiled. "You
know ten minutes is the limit for five credits. Do you want to pay for
another session?"
He was caught between his own insistent desire
and his disgust with this excessive commercialization of sex. "Profiteers,
that's what you are! You're taking advantage of the plague that killed
off half the women in the country. You've got us men in a vice and you're
squeezing us for every credit. The session time gets shorter every month!"
"Yes, I suppose so!" He got his pouch from
the pocket of his cape and paid her.
"You men!" she said. "You should be glad to
get this much instead of complaining all the time." She took one of the
keys from her collection and inserted it into a small black hole in the
back of the nude figure. There was a clicking sound as she wound up the
intricate spring operated mechanism. "If you don't like this why don't
you save up three hundred credits and pay for an hour with a
real
girl?"
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