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     Editor's note:  This is the first recorded Journal Entry, and it
has no official date, as Pendor did not exist when it was transcripted.
The language of the document is entirely Terran: American Anglic.
                        David Majors
                        Editor and Chief Translator,
                        The Journal Entries of Kennet Shardik Project
                        043 / 0686

     "Maybe I'm analyzing it too much," I said.

     "Maybe you are," Fawn replied.  I reacted with a bit of a start,
staring at the computer's speaker; that had been the first thing she'd
said all night, despite the nature of our present course.  I drove
quietly up I-84 into the heart of New York through a cold night; the
rain sheeted off the car in large gusts, and I drove slowly, the
overpriced tires on my heavily modified '84 Pontiac holding the road
more precariously than I preferred.

     "Dammit, it's just not fair!  Especially not tonight."  Inside me,
my thoughts tumbled and churned, the pain in my chest caused by pure
frustration.  I was near crying as my thoughts drifted back...



     "You're leaving."  It was not a question.

     I rose from the couch where I sat and looked out over the New York
skyline wrapped up in a March midwinter's snow.  The flakes fell big and
wet outside her window.  I tried not to stand too close to her.  "I have
to."

     "Why?" she asked.

     I turned to her and said angrily "Because I have to, okay?  Look, I
told you back in August when I met you that this was not supposed to
become a permanent thing, Kris.  I told you as soon as my eyes healed I
was going to go again."

     "But where are you going?" There was anguish in her voice.  I'd
heard her tell tales of her family; I understood why she couldn't stand
to lose someone.

     "I can't tell you."

     "Ken, please.  At least tell me..."  She stopped, turned away and
walked to the couch where I'd been sitting.  She sat down, and I scowled
at the gesture; we'd basically reversed positions.

     "Kris, please.  Don't make this any harder for me than it already
is.  I'm leaving behind friends that mean a lot to me."

     "Yes, I know," she said.  "I know.  And I know how much you mean to
me.  Ken, there was a time, way back in August, where my roommates were
telling me that you were just consoling a widow and not considering the
risk, to quote one of your favorite expressions.  But it wasn't that,
was it?  How could you know?  I mean, remember how we met?"

     I smiled.  "Our chance meeting was something out of a sitcom, and
you and I both know it."  I was close to laughing, and close to tears.
"Remember how you kicked Voll and then jumped ten feet when you realized
that was a dog under the table?"

     "How was I supposed to know?" she replied.  "I'm sorry I
embarrassed you."

     "I couldn't see it, thank God.  You were the embarrassed one.
Besides, I still find it funny how horrified you were when I started
opening Voll up."

     She blushed.  "How was I supposed to know your Seeing Eye dog was a
robot?"

     "Because I'm such an irresponsible bastard that they wouldn't let
me have a real one?"

     We both chuckled at that one, and then she repeated herself.
"You're really going, aren't you?"

     I nodded.  "I might be back."

     "When?" she asked, jumping at the idea that I would be back.

     "If I am, it'll be in a year or two.  A lot will have changed in
the time in between, though."

     "Like?"

     I paused for a second, and then said, "Oh, I don't know.  Take it
on faith, Kris.  I'll have something new;  I'll be something new.  No,
that's not right.  I'll be... older, probably.  More mature?  Maybe, but
I'll fight that every step of the way."  She smiled, and we both laughed
quietly.  "Kris, have a glass of Tehta' with me.  I'll open one of the
bottles."

     She nodded and smiled.  I went and got the bottle and the
corkscrew.  As I opened it I reflected on the power of a wine that had
never been made on Earth, but instead on a planet hundreds of light
years away.  I poured two glasses.

     She accepted the glass quietly, and sipped.  "I can't convince
you."

     "Nope."  I paused, sipping my wine.  "Kris, where I'm going, what
I'm doing, is so important to me.  I've given twelve years to this
project, and I'm not going to stop now.  I'm sorry.  It's that simple.
Meeting you was an accident compounding another."

     "What is the project?" she asked for the Nth time.

     "It's really my business, Kris.  Trust me, okay?"

     "How can I trust you?"

     "You have so far."

     "But that was... " she paused.  "I was going to say that that was
the easy part."  She smiled wryly, and said "But it wasn't.  You're
right.  For a man with no past who pays cash for everything, you're
right."

     "I don't always pay cash."

     "No, you don't.  You also pay in gold, but that's rare."

     I smiled and put an arm around her shoulders.  She shook her head
to free her hair.  "Ken, are you going to have any family when you come
back?"

     I looked at her askew, and said, "Why do you ask?"

     "Because you never talk about family.  It's like you never had
one."

     "Oh, I have one.  And yeah, I guess when I get back I'll have more.
Either that or I'll never be back."

     "Don't say that."

     "Why not?" I asked in reply.  "I mean, I'm not that important.
Your life will go on without me.  Seriously, it will.  You've got a good
job and people who care for you.  You don't need me."

     She looked away.  "I want you."

     "You can't keep me, Kris. I'm sorry."

     "I know."  She reached out her arms to ask for a hug.  I knelt on
the floor in front of her chair and bent over to hug her.  "But
sometimes," she said, "the only way I survive is knowing you're out
there, somewhere."

     I didn't reply with words, but instead pushed her hair out of the
way as I leaned against her and quietly kissed her neck.  She replied
the same way, kissing my neck in return, and when she did the feelings
she held for me shot through my body like lasers, slicing me up.  I
pulled away from her too look into her eyes, her pure, jade green eyes.
The madness, the passion I felt for her welled up in me and I fell into
her lips, kissing her, and she replied, hot and passionate in return.
We crawled over each other, never breaking the kiss for minutes on end.
We parted, and I looked at her, chuckling softly.

     "What's so funny?" she asked.

     "Remember my sense of smell?"  She nodded.  "I can almost feel
your... scent, the way it rises."  I ducked down between her legs and
hiked her skirt up, then hooked one hand through the crotch of her
underpants and struggled to pull them off.  She raised herself up above
the couch and helped me.  I knelt there on the floor and spread her
legs, looking at that soft cunt into which I had explored so few
precious times before.  I kissed her leg, and she cooed in response,
sucking in air.  I kissed her again, closer yet to her cunt, then in the
light of her living room kissed her mound just above her pubic hair,
that rich rustic red hair that hid.  I kissed again, a little lower, and
and again.

     "You're teasing!" she hissed.  I smiled and continued my
exploration over territory not yet easily familiar.  I parted the hair
with my tongue, running from the very bottom her cunt to the top,
sluicing to the left, then to the right, probing closely, licking
gently, nipping with my teeth and holding with my lips.  What many men
think is impossible is childishly simple to me; I found my way around
her magnificently sweet pussy with my eyes closed, running my tongue
between her lips, outer to inner to outer again, then concentrating
around her clitoris.  She groaned, and I think I heard a note of pain;
too sensitive, I backed off, caressing the hood with my lips, exciting
her further.  Running down to her opening, licking within, then back up.
I backed off further, smiling (if only to myself) mischievously,
thinking to prolong Kris's need.  I kept on gently, enjoying the
feeling, the power.  And that's what it is for me, power;  It's
confidence, you know what I mean, Fawn?  I've never met a woman I
couldn't please with my tongue, so there's that power there.  In the
end, I never denied.  But it was such an intense ego trip to feel her,
begging me in silence to finish her.

     I responded to her crying needs, though, by finally caressing her
clit directly, feeling her gasp as I pushed her further and further into
orgasm, into that damned pleasure that she needed, begged for, and when
she cried out, I felt her relief and her pleasure.  But I didn't stop.
Why stop at one?  I went on, backing off as I had in the beginning since
I knew that her clit was going to be far to damned sensitive for me to
start anew from there.  I instead ducked a little further down, and with
my hands held her buttocks in my hands and parted them slightly, licking
into the tiny brown hole underneath, and she cooed and giggled in
response to the new and different sensations I was sending her.

     I moved back up to her cunt, planting kisses and taking soft bites
from her mons veneris, feeling her pressure me, begging me, and together
we pressed on and crested over her next orgasm.

     And on, but she stopped me suddenly, pushing my head away from her
cunt with a trembling hand, saying "No more, please.  That's... that's
too much.  That's enough."  She gasped, dragging in huge breaths that
made her breasts heave and shudder.

     I rose and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, holding her and
caressing her.  "Thank you," I whispered in her ear.

     "No..." she said.  "Thank you, Ken.  That was wonderful."  We sat
together on the couch, slowly calming down.

     I stood and extended my hand.  "Come on."  She looked up at me, and
nodded.  She took my hand and I led her into the bedroom, closing the
door behind me in case Donna, her roommate, came home.  I doubted it,
she'd been sleeping over at her boyfriend's place, but you never know.

     Inside, I let go of her hand; she was extremely passive suddenly,
letting me lead in everything.  I walked around behind her and unzipped
her skirt, letting it fall to the floor.  I removed the t-shirt she
wore, the one I'd given her that said "Heroes aren't hard to find," and
then undid her bra, releasing her wonderfully large breasts.  She looked
down and said "I'm gaining weight."

     "I like you like this," I replied.  "You know, I look at someone as
skinny as Donna and go 'yuck, bruises.'"

     She smiled.  "Do you really like me like this?"

     "Kris, I love you like this.  If you were obese, that's different,
but being what society calls 'overweight' is what I consider beautiful.
It's what you are, it's healthy, cuddly, soft and wonderful.  You're the
kind of woman I could hold all night long."  She smiled, and I said "Lie
down, on your stomach."

     She complied, and fully clothed I straddled her thighs, settling
down gently, and began to rub her back.  She moaned appreciatively as I
caressed her back, and then I rose off of her to rub each leg, my hands
roaming up until they nestled against her wetted cunt, then moving to
the other leg, then up to her magnificently shaped ass, and as I
caressed her buttocks the sight and scent of her cunt, barely exposed
between her legs, worked on my brain.

     When I felt I was finished my hands gently ran along her skin to
her shoulders.  I changed the angle of my fingers so that my nails were
pressed into her skin and carefully scratched her.  She moaned so loudly
I was taken aback, almost losing touch with her body.  She liked that?
I shook my head to clear it and returned to my scratching.  She cooed
and moaned, louder and firmer as I became bolder and scratched harder,
leaving little red trails in her skin as I did.  I scratched her from
her shoulders to her buttocks, but when I scratched over her ass her
moans soothed and quieted.

     I don't know why I did what I did next; it was simply the right
thing to do, and I did it: I drew one hand away and brought it down hard
onto her ass with a slap.

     Her head shot up, turned to the side and back towards me, eyes
closed, and although she was completely silent the expression on her
face was unmistakable.  She wasn't looking at me; she had turned so I
could see the approval on her face.  I repeated it again, and she buried
her face in the pillow, and a loud moan escaped her.  I smiled, but
inside I agonized.  It wasn't fair, to discover this new and fascinating
aspect of this wonderful woman on the damned day I was leaving!

     I returned to my scratching, but with only one hand, the other
struggling to remove my shirt, my belt, my shoes.  Sometimes quickly,
sometimes slowly, I scratched.  I opened my pants and removed them,
throwing them aside.  I straddled her again, settling again onto her
thighs so that from where I was I could see her back and her ass.  I
scratched again, now with both  hands, and as I did I would occasionally
bring my hand down in a sharp slap.  She cooed and moaned and once, just
once, I heard her whisper "harder, please."  My cock, hard and
insistent, bobbed up and down against the juncture of her glorious and
reddening buttocks.  I leaned over, pressing my cock against her ass,
and said "Kris?"

     "Yeah?" she breathed.

     "Remember the last time we went out, and I said that I wanted to
make love to you in this position, with you face down?  Well, I'm going
to."  Her response was a simple "Uh-huh" of affirmation.

     I rose back onto and gave her ass a few more sharp slaps, and she
moaned and writhed in response.  I placed my hands on her buns, and with
my thumbs slowly parted them.  The opening of her vagina was barely
visible between her legs, and I positioned my cock downward and pushed.

     It slid in a little, and I withdrew less, and pushed in further.
Slowly, in five gentle jolts I slid in until the entire length of my
cock was within her.  My hips connected with her buttocks, and I laid
down on top of her.  "Like that?"

     "Yessss..." she whispered.  I lifted my hips to withdraw, and slid
back into her.  Kris was incoherent as I began to fuck her slowly and
gently.  I wanted it to last forever.  It was probably going to be the
last time ever.

     I fucked her, and her moans became louder and higher in pitch.  I
felt a long way off from my own orgasm, and hers was coming on already.
I reared up and back to support my weight on her thighs, and with my
hands on her waist I began to fuck her in earnest, hard and insistent.
Kris buried her face into the pillow and screamed as her orgasm washed
over her.  I smiled, but inside I hurt.  We'd always made love in the
missionary position before, or with her on top; and she came reluctantly
that way.  Why now?  Why did I have to learn today that from this angle
I was hitting something, something pleasurable and vital, some spot
within her that drove her to orgasm almost instantly?  I deliberately
stuffed the thought into the background and concentrated on her.

     I fucked her, and she cooed more, louder, her next orgasm coming on
the ebbing of the first, and I kept on.  I leaned over after the third,
and I said "Like that?"

     "Uh-huh," she whispered.

     "You know you belong to me, little kitten," I said, using a
nickname I hadn't used for her in a few months.  "I could from here take
your ass, you know that... You've never given it to me, but I could take
it if I wanted to, you know that," and she nodded, slowly.  "But I
won't.  I'll save it for later, for another time.  I'll satisfy us both
with making love to you, feeling you pinned underneath me, my
possession, my wonderful lover."

     "Yesss...." she whispered, and I remained lying over her as I began
to fuck her harder still, jealously and greedily heading towards my own
orgasm.  Her moans had ceased to be coherent, and instead she whispered
a high-pitched keening as her orgasm came on.  I leaned down towards her
and she craned her neck back towards me and we kissed, our tongues
meeting softly.  Kris had always been the best kisser I'd ever known,
and tonight she was perfect.  My cock began to hurt from the raising
pressure, and when I came I buried my face in her hair, her neck, to
keep from screaming aloud.

     We stopped, me on top of her, catching our breath.  I rolled off of
her, and we hugged and kissed and held each other.

     Then it was suddenly like a switch had been thrown.  Kris sat up
and said "You're late.  You should get going."

     "Kris, I don't have to be anywhere in particular until dawn.  I
don't have to head out immediately, please. I have time."

     "I..."  She stopped, and sat down again in my lap, crying, holding
me.  I held her back, awkwardly trying to figure out what I should do
with a crying woman other than hold her.

     "Kris, remember earlier when you stopped me from licking you
because 'it was too much?'"  She nodded.  "Well, one of these days I'm
going to tie you down to a bed and lick you for four or five hours, just
so you can't stop me."

     Her eyes widened in... fear? delight?  Who knows?  She smiled, and
wrapped her arms around me, hugging me closely.  "Come on," she said.
"Let's get dressed."

     We dressed slowly, and I kissed her nipples as I helped her put her
shirt back on.  She smiled at me, and without much of a word I took her
hand.  She locked the door behind her even though she wasn't going to be
gone long;  she just wanted to walk me to my car.  We rode the elevator
down to the basement parking, and I found the car just where I'd left
it.  I keyed the door and opened it.  I turned back to where she was
standing, one nail stuck between her teeth.  I'd never seen her bite her
nails before.

     "Kris,"

     "No," she said.  "Don't say it.  Please."  Her whisper was begging
me.

     "'Kay.  You take care."

     She backed away from the car and said, "Oh, sure.  I'll be okay.
No problem.  I'll go on, right?  Yeah.  There's always tomorrow, right?"

     "Kris..." I said.  "Oh, fuck it." I ran to her, taking her up in my
arms and holding her close to me, holding her so fucking tight I never
wanted to let her go, and she broke down then, crying, really crying,
sobbing, and I joined her, too.  Her sobs came hard, rough, and then
slowly they settled down, and finally she extracted herself from me and
looked up into my eyes.  There were tears staining her cheeks, and I
wiped them away with my thumbs as I took her face in my hands.

     "You know," I said, "I have to be back.  I've never met someone I
knew as well as you.  I mean, we've never talked about it, but I knew
how hard to slap, to scratch, how far to push it.  It wasn't... I don't
know how I knew, I just felt it.  I just knew.  I'm sorry."

     She nodded, and smiled then, and I think I was looking at the real
Kris this time, no faces or masks.  "I'll be okay now, Ken.  You'd
better go before I change my mind."  I nodded slightly, and slowly I
lowered myself into the car.  I pulled on the headlights of the Trans
Am, and they rose into place, illuminating the the garage.  I started
the engine, pulled it into reverse, and slowly backed out of the parking
slot.  The last sight I had of Kris was of her leaning against her grey
Thunderbird, her head bowed and her hands pressed against her forehead,
crying silently.  My heart broke, but somehow I managed not to turn
around.  Places to go, things to do at any cost.  I pulled out into the
Manhattan winter, heading north.  Crying.



     "Which brings us back to where we are now.  It's so damned unfair
to have learned so much, to have explored so little, with a person I
care that much about, on the night that I'm leaving.  I mean, the
playful spanking, the intense feelings..." I said.

     "You will miss her," Fawn said, quietly.  "I will too."

     "I thought you didn't like her."

     "I changed my mind," the computer replied, sounded apologetic.

     "Fawn, prepare transit drive, program Primary Site, Pendor."

     "It's already loaded."

     "Then let's go."  I said.  The Trans-Am-shaped starship blinked out
of existence.



     In the beginning, this universe was void, and without form.

     And Shardik said, "Let there be light."

     And there was light.



Editor's Postscript:  Kris Long Anders emigrated to Pendor on 054/0108
(Terran: March 8, 1992).  She was consulted in the preparation of this
document.

--
@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
"Kris"@END_FILE_ID.DIZ

The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., And Related Tales
are (c) Elf Matheiu Sternberg.  May be freely distributed by
cybernetic media; hardcopies are limited to single printings for
personal use.