Natalie

Natalie announced her arrival to Meyer in time for him to unlock the door before she had to wait. He’s always so polite, she thought and considerate too. Natalie thought it strange that Meyer did not get up when she entered the tiny room as he usually did. The tall dark man- well they all were, here, weren’t they? - remained seated, connected to the Sanctuary’s hard-wire systems. He must be pre-occupied with something, she supposed. 

As a lower-order member of the Closed Habitat, she did not have access to the depths of the Habitats information gathering system. Many things that happened in the Sanctuary where a mystery to her. The closed-door meetings, where her services involved merely feeding the correct beverage into the appropriate receptacle for transfer to the recipient by hose to the drinking tubes in their suit, had become an everyday occurrence. Not seeing the faces of most of her customers no longer bothered her, now that she had been in CloHab for a few years. Often she would not see another face for the whole of her shift. However, no one saw hers either. 

She had originally experimented with what the Closed Habitat called “Wannabee suits”, fully enclosed outfits that contained none of the electronic or environmental attributes of the Habitat. A long period of hiding from her few relatives and scant friends, wearing the faceless costume had her convinced that she should become a member of the secular organisation. She researched the available details, asked as much as she was game and finally gathered the courage to walk into one of their Sanctuaries. 

A thorough questionnaire and search into her past enabled her to become a “practising candidate”, as the Habitat called it. Months of wearing the full suit, study and conforming to the guidelines and paying off the electronically enhanced, environmentally controlled suit won her a fulltime membership, but with limited access and few privileges.  She had studied hard and consciously, becoming a skilled artisan in martial arts and computer science along the way, and for that alone she was thankful. Natalie grinned and gave gratitude every time she passed an old acquaintance in the street. No one knew her, no one recognised her, and for that, she was satisfied. 

Today, she had chosen an orange suit with a contoured face panel and reddish eyes. At the end of a long and rather hard week at work, she had donned a pair of matching bootees with shock absorbing soles, rather than the high-heeled and platformed shoes that came with the suit. Data display was minimal due to the reduced area in front of her eyes, but she did not need most of the plethora of “bumph” available to her. The generous salary paid by CloHab enabled her to purchase a wide selection of colourful suits, although the more expensive self-cleansing models were beyond her means. It was the skintight suits that originally attracted her to the Habitat when she decided to drop out of mainstream society. Her personal preference was for stylish and imaginative designs, rather than the basic black that most members wore. Her main attraction was for the anonymity and facelessness of the Habitat. She wanted nothing more than to be no one, just another number, and a figure, in the crowds. 

Similarly, she avoided the bulky and unnecessary optional extras that others used. Massive amounts of memory storage, data handling, multi-spectral capabilities, jet packs and energy conversion were not for her. Natalie chose the most streamlined options available, opting for thin conformal units. Her data-handling unit, for example, fitted into the hollow of her back and the modest shoulder pads she wore. Microphones and optical pick-ups were scarcely bigger than a pinhead. Nothing she carried about her body detracted from her graceful figure or altered her sleek lines. 

Indeed, she thought the costume was quite flattering to a well-toned body. It certainly was on Seth Meyer, she had decided long ago. The few times that he had relaxed enough to divest himself of the ballistic armour and other heavy-duty items he habitually wore had set her heart aflutter. Not that it had done her any good. The reserved conservative attitudes of the Closed Habitat frowned upon fraternisation within the Sanctuaries. It seemed contradictory to her, considering that some had complete floors dedicated to “relaxation volunteers” for members that could not, or would not, find a partner.

She had met several girls from that stream of employment within the Closed Habitat and had been fascinated by the stories they told her and by their overall attitude. They were more than just prostitutes; they were dedicated to the idea of sex within the confines of the Habitats sanctuaries in general, and suits in particular. All of those she had spoken to were hardcore bondage fans. One had even said that she had spent one hundred hours straight without being able to move! 

Totally intubated and fed intravenously, the girl had had a remotely controlled vibrating dildoes inserted into her arse and cunt and a solid penis gag held into her mouth. She was strapped into a couch and been unable to move so much as her fingers. Her “Master” had electronically stimulated her without so much as him being in the room. Natalie had often daydreamed of such activities during slower periods at the sanctuaries. She had even masturbated to the thought of Meyer doing similar things to her, but such things were outside of her experience and capabilities. 

Her imagination did not stretch so far, as her doing it to him, although a couple of the CloHab volunteers had told her they would tie their “clients” up and thoroughly enjoyed it. Her mind wandered to the man in the 195th floor booth, wired into a computer system and drinking from a sealed container via his tight black suit. She imagined going in and mounting him, taking his huge cock deep within her. She knew it was large because she had taken his suits to be cleaned or repaired several times. Twice, she had pressed the cool smooth layer against her own second skin and fantasised about him being in it. She longed for it now. The quiet country girl, raised on a diary farm, taught nothing except the essentials, and how to milk genetically modified cattle for produce, wondered what was to be her future. 

Nat was pleased that Meyer always chose her as a personal host whenever she was on duty, although a frustration of the CloHab was that she could not flutter her eyelids at him. She wondered what he really looked like beneath that curved gloss black visor. She imagined a strong jaw, clean-shaven and square. A serious frown, for someone so generally intense. What colour are his eyes? She asked her blank reflection in the mirror when she returned to the servery. Definitely blue or grey! She decided, thinking about his very slight accent. 

What was his accent, anyway? The mannerisms suggested a military background, which was usual for Investigators and fairly common within the Habitat. His spoken word had so many varying, and sometimes contrary, idiosyncrasies that it was almost unidentifiable. Sometimes it was vaguely northern European, at other times it was definitely off-world, possibly Yosoh or Johannes’ World. There was even a clipped Raskosian sound to it, sometimes… 

He is a strange one, that Seth Meyer! She concluded as the next order signal appeared in her left eyepiece. She went about her duties, serving food and drinks, cleaning, fetching and running general errands but her mind kept going back to the man in the booth. Nat wondered why Meyer had her in such schoolgirl-like way of thinking. 

Was it that he was always so polite and considerate? No, she thought, nearly everyone here is usually very decent. His strong, athletic build was quite an example to some of the patrons of the habitat, but she didn’t think that was it either. Even the suits he wore were not as perfect as others she regularly saw, with the heavy-duty kit layered on top of the skin-tight black garment. In fact, she even found the Government Issue equipment and his ballistic vest a bit of a turn-off. The guns, she didn’t mind either way, particularly these days. In fact, with “the strife”, a man with a means to physically protect her was actually a bonus. 

Natalie found herself thinking that if anyone was going to protect her, it should be Seth Meyer. She would feel as safe as a Martian Bank with him around. Mind you, I felt more than just safe when he stayed for those five days last month! And he didn’t even have all his kit on, then… Natalie recalled.

Nat realised she was flushing at the memory of his lustred black body wondering about the Sanctuary at all hours of the day or night. She realised an urge to visit him in the hundred and ninety-fifth floor booth. It would be an odd thing to do, though. The Closed Habitat was all about privacy. To ask if someone wanted something, in an establishment designed to be totally automated and electronically integrated… He would be suspicious to say the least. It might even be grounds for dismissal… She considered.

Nevertheless, Natalie hovered around the servery with a selection of drinks that Meyer usually ordered ready at hand. She thought her luck had turned bad when she saw an order for another drink to be delivered to Meyer’s cubicle had been acknowledged by Zana, the other girl working the shift. Zana’s sweet voice piped into Nat’s hood, “Your Seth wants another bourbon, Nat.”

“Thanks Zana. Can you do Dorna’s lunch for me?” 

“Sure. Don’t be too long…” Zana replied with a hint of humour. 

Natalie fretted unnecessarily that Zana was onto her infatuation with Meyer, as she saw the girl watching her preen the polished orange catsuit before taking the order down to the hundred and ninety-fifth level. 

Zana grinned behind the obsidian curved faceplate of her glistening black outfit. That girl has a big crush on Meyer! It had been so very obvious for quite some time now. What she doesn’t seem to notice… is that he fancies her too. She wondered how she could throw them together. Natalie rechecked her appearance once again before entering the grav-tube. She dropped slowly through the levels until she saw “195th” in large figures pass by. Taking the chromed bar, she swung lightly onto the carpeted foyer. A small group of effusive members were talking animatedly by the open lounge, on the open proximity-channel. 

“Oooh! I love your orange suit, dear! Could you tell me where you got it?” A voice came over the channel allocated for that level of the building. 

A quick look proved that she was, not surprisingly, the only person wearing an orange suit within sight. It was the primary reason that she had chosen orange for her latest outfit. Nat informed the lady of the designers address as she admired outfit the woman was wearing and gave her the makers’ chit, which would add a credit to Nat for the referral. The woman was very tall, even without the towering high-heels she wore. Natalie had to take a pace back and crane her neck to take in the detail of the fishtailed dress. It was worn over an exceptionally fine, full body-suit, as per the creed of the Closed Habitat, but had the battery packs, sensor and data units concealed within the folds of the skirt. Matched bloused sleeves and a corseted waist set off a high frilled neck. A goggled eyepiece and vented faceshield covered her face, a ponytail of black hair protruded from the top of her hood. Everything was lustred to a gleaming finish. In contrast, Nat felt positively frumpy. Her friends were equally well dressed. The gentleman she stood with was in shades of light and dark blue with an oil-spill patterned faceplate. One lady was wearing an outfit similar to one that Natalie had been saving for. 

It was bright chrome silver with gloss black accessories. She complimented the woman on it although she thought that her own design was superior. Nat excused herself, finally remembering that she had work to do. Seth was waiting.

His room was on the other side of the building. She quickly covered the distance, once again announcing her arrival before she got there. 

Meyer disconnected himself as he acknowledged Natalie’s signal. It was time for a break and to stretch his arms and legs. He paused his research and stood as she entered, glad to have the chance to stop and to look at her. Talking to her did not enter his mind. Meyer was so used to being on his own, to no-one wanting to talk to him, that he went days, sometimes weeks without speaking.

Natalie nodded as she approached him. It was a bobbing curtsey, almost a bow, of an acknowledgement. She suddenly felt overawed by his massive presence. He dipped his head in reply but said nothing. She smiled as hard as she could behind the mask of her one-piece suit but knew it was useless. 

On a wild whim, she lowered the range of her transmitter and said, “I am smiling at you, Seth Meyer!” 

Meyer gaped from behind his own faceplate. It surprised him that she had told him this, but also that she was actually smiling at him. The servile tone of her voice had never suggested anything to him. He’d assumed that she was just another CloHab worker going about her business in an efficient way. He stared at the featureless red circles that were her eyes. 

“And I, at you, Natalie.” He ventured, cautiously, thinking that he did not know her family name. For some reason, Habitat workers never had their inherited name on their electronic signature. 

It would take mere seconds to find it out. A simple command would reveal more than she would probably care to disclose, but Meyer elected not to abuse his Investigators access and privileges and blurted, “What is your full name, Natalie? Where are you from? Tell me about you…” 

Nat was surprised but pleased that he asked this. Why did he want to know that? She was still wondering as she answered “Natalie Denison. Earth born and bred. I do not have a middle name, my parents didn’t believe in it. They told me that it was ‘hanging a tag on a person’ and there was something about an old aunt that they despised, that my family wanted me named after…

“Apparently, my Ma and Da were written out of the will for refusing to name me after the old bag… Such is life.

“We were born in Oxford, England. I’ve never been off-planet. I’ve worked as an Orbital Arranger, a horticulturalist, process worker and I did a few years in the mines as a lugger… That was because I couldn’t enter the Marine… “ 

Natalie stopped talking, fearing that she was rambling and possibly boring the man before her. 

Meyer nodded, interested in what she saying, but more from eagerness to keep her talking. He suddenly felt the loneliness and isolation of his life. 
They both remained silent, thinking of their respective histories. She, of the “twitchy heart valve” as the medico had called it that had prevented her from being conscripted. He, of the murky and secret past that had led him to don the faceless and emotionless persona of Seth Meyer. 
He gave himself a mental slap to bring him from the reverie he had entered and asked, “You said ‘We were born in Oxford…’ We? “ 

Natalie smiled behind her mask. “Yes. We. I have a twin sister, Natalya. She’s a Corporal Senior Grade in the First Cav.” She explained, proud to mention that her twin was a marine in the Allied Earth Colonial Marine’s premier formation. “I think she’s on the border at the moment…” 

Without thinking, Seth mentioned that he had been a marine… Once upon a time. 

Instantly, he regretted it. Reference to his past was something that he was not allowed. Scant few knew of the deeds and details of ‘Seth Meyer’, as he was now known. Fewer still, knew that he was still alive... mostly. 

He quickly changed the subject back to her. “And now?...” 

“And now… I work here. Serving you.” Natalie summarised, feeling awkward but extremely submissive to this man in black. 

“I appreciate it. …and enjoy it, Natalie Denison.” He blurted. 

Natalie held the drink container out and, unusually, knelt to fit it to Meyer’s fluid intake receptacle. He stepped back slightly, ready to defend against an attack, but realised what she was doing and forced himself to remain still. No one had the chance to tamper with Seth Meyers’ ensemble since he had joined the Habitat. He felt suddenly very vulnerable and liberated at the same time. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

Natalie removed the cap of the collapsible container, inserted it to the appropriate fixture and opened the tube. She boldly held onto Seth’s body to steady her as she stood. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She thought as she gingerly slid her hands off his tight muscular form. 

Seth felt the electric touch of her hands and imagined them all over his body. He did not picture skin-on-skin contact, but suit-on-suit caressing and massaging closeness. Out of shyness and uncertainty, Meyer merely thanked her and resumed his seat at the console. 

Natalie instantly moved to assist him, taking the data-link umbilical and attempting to attach it to his shoulder receptacle. “No. It goes here, Nat… excuse me,  Natalie. It provides faster interface.” 

“I understand.” She moved to the waist mounted point, placing a hand on his rippling stomach as she connected the cable. On a whim, she smoothed any wrinkles, real or imagined, before standing back and asking if there was anything else he might require. 

“Perhaps you might tidy and dust the area, before you go…” Seth answered, desperate for her to stay but aware of the fact she had work to perform. 

“As you wish, Seth Meyer.” 

Nat took a vac-wand from a hidden compartment by the door and slowly worked her way around the small booth. She hoped that there were no dust particles in the room; that he was just trying to keep her within sight. The room was cleaned by a robot, and inspected before being classified as ready for occupation! She made a point of keeping a straight back and being rather prim and proper as she carried out her task. 

Meyer found it hard to concentrate on the search program he was running, with the lithe form of Natalie moving around before him. For the first time in a long time, he felt a stirring in his loins. It wasn’t the usual pressure release he occasionally had, but genuine longing for a partner. She had a fine figure and he found it was easy to talk her. Meyer wondered if she had a lifestyle-partner. He half-watched her and kept an eye on the data displayed in his faceplate. A notable point took his attention, dragging his mind back to the investigation at hand. 

“Is there anything else I could do for you, Seth Meyer? Another drink, perhaps… something to eat?” Natalie resisted her foremost thoughts. A massage? How about I climb on top of you and fuck you senseless? 

Meyer was rapidly making notes on associations and links between suspects and did not acknowledge her query. 

Natalie nodded that bobbing curtsey and left the room, unaware of the importance of his mission. 

Meyer looked up from his collation of information and cursed in a way that would shame his Formalist parents, teachers and Elders. Good-damnation, hell and buggery, shit, fuck and cunt! She has gone… A quick look at his time display told Seth that Natalie had been out of the tiny room for hours. Thinking, told him she would have been finished her shift for a few hours… Bugger! 

He smiled at the use of the favourite curse of his old Special Forces unit, but couldn’t bring himself to think some of the more colourful phrases. He made a point to continue his fraternisation with this young lady as he readied for a foray into the outside world and the continuation of his assigned mission. 

Ten days later...

Meyer left the Area Enforcement Building and, not for the first time, wished he could rub a hand over his tired face. His helmet faceplate denied this small luxury as he strode through the parks and landing spaces surrounding the pyramidal structure. He contemplated the idea of divesting himself of his entire CloHab outfit and lying in a spa for a long while. It had been years since he had been totally naked, outside of his suit, for other than changing it for repairs to be carried out. 

The recent riots and security crackdowns had kept him more than busy as he watched the suspect elements of the Enforcement Branch. Twice Molotov Cocktails had set him on fire. Bricks, punches, and kicks had battered his body, covered in bruises, as he stepped into the fray. He was not obliged to assist the Enforcement Mediating Officers he was observing, but a moral code had him step into the midst of several violent incidents. A professional pride glowed within him that he had not drawn a weapon during the hectic period, although he had been shot at least thrice. 

Seth set a course for the 53rd Sanctuary. In the back of his mind he had the thought and hope he might see Natalie there. She had appeared in his head several times during the moments between the running battles waged between Earths citizenry and elements of Allied Earths government. He had hoped she was safe but had no more time, or energy, to dwell on anything more. 

“Seth Meyer. I have taken the liberty to arrange a secure room and medical facilities for you. Are you fit? What assets do you require?” 

Meyer grinned a tired and relieved grin at the sound of Gloria Portric, the Sanctuary’s Primary Host. He was still four hundred and fifty-three metres away from the entrance. 

An automatic alert highlighted Natalie’s position as she left the Sanctuary, now three hundred metres away. Disappointment overrode exhaustion and lack of anything to say. Meyer wondered if she was taking a lunch break. Unlikely. Why would she leave the Sanctuary? 

“Yes, thank you, Gloria Portric.” He replied, still watching the cool curves of Nat until she disappeared in the crowd. He contemplated asking Portric about the girl but could not bring himself to do it. 

For the first time in a long time, Seth Meyer was as naked as the day he was born. His suit, minus the weaponry and classified equipment, was recharging and being repaired by an in-house technician as he lay in a deep hot spa. He looked down at the distorted image of his body. Mottled blue and gold patches marked the impact of thrown missiles, dark black and painful points were indicators of the three gunshot wounds and the efficiency of his body armour. He tenderly stroked one area on his right thigh as he lifted his leg from the seething water. He suspected the injury to be from a hypervelocity 4mm round, a badly aimed one at that, from the way it had shattered the plate of armour between his knee and hip. A cynical snort was a memory of the same type of bullet that had removed most of his knee, so many years ago. The chrome joint glinted dully in the low light. His report to McCreedy and Area Intelligence had highlighted the point of the rioters using the typically Raskosian ammunition that had caused the deaths of five Mediating officers. They would probably be revived, as they had been placed in cryo-stasis within minutes of sustaining the mortal wounds, but dead is dead. Meyer knew this from bitter experience. He’d been killed at least twice, so far. 

He lowered the sore leg back into the chemically healing liquid and sighed. There was a slight relief that he had none of the sharp stinging associated with the breaking of skin, only the dull throb of traumatically compressed flesh. “Pain reminds you that you are still alive” He recalled many of his instructors and mentors telling him. A sound, real or imagined, had him glance at the pair of Hektar Modelle Acht 10mm automatics he always had at hand. His privately owned Blebidger .90cal recoilless, with its wantonly destructive, high explosive rounds was hanging on the wall, out of reach. He paused, closed his “good” eye and rested his head on the vibrating pillow. 

“Lights, off. Sound, calming, low.” Soft ephemeral music of his favourite composer wafted through the thick atmosphere of the bathroom. He relaxed his mind to reduce the input from the cybernetic eye that filled his right socket. It came with the Myomar jaw muscles, high impact plastic mandible, replacement cheekbone and several sections of new skull. Dead is dead, but I’m still here… One way or another. 

A soft chime raised his consciousness. Seth had not quite been asleep, but neither could he remember the previous few hours. “Identify.” 

“Natalie Denison. I have your suit. It is repaired and recharged, Seth.” 

A display on the wall confirmed her statement. His heart leapt to his throat. Several thoughts flooded his head as he automatically placed a hand on his pistol. How long had he been unaware? He glanced at the display, also checking the date. She is here! Natalie. He slightly moved each part of his body in a stock-take of his physiology. Still whole… and not as painful. He felt somewhat refreshed, but still battle worn. His one remaining eyebrow rose as he thought, “She cannot see me like this!” 

Meyer forced himself to calm. “Thank you, Natalie Denison. Leave it in the antechamber. I will be with you soon.” 

What!? Why did you say that, Seth? Nevertheless, Meyer felt emboldened and truthful for admitting that he wanted to see the sweet young lady. She had obviously made a point of collecting his CloHab uniform for him and brought it to him. He shook his head, rubbed his eye and stretched. 

“Very well, Seth Meyer. Do you require anything?” Natalie answered, worrying that she had only used his given name. 

“No, thank you. I will be out soon.” 

Uncomfortably naked, bereft of the formfitting black skin he had worn since his last change of identity; Meyer stood in the dryer and consolidated his thoughts. The Enforcement Crew he was investigating was on an extended rest period. He had completed any reports and returns that were required and cleaned and serviced his armoury before he had sunk into the healing spa. His mind kept wandering back to the thought of Natalie. Somehow, he knew she would not be far away. 

Once dry, he took up the baggy black suit and inspected it. The scuffmarks and dirt of the previous few days were removed, the seals between wrist and gloves, repaired. An indicator told him that the onboard batteries were reformed and fully charged. His utility harness and boots were also showing fully functional and were in immaculate order. Only his helmet and body armour were at less than optimal standard, but that would require the care of a Justice or Defence Department Armament Technician. The shattered sections of the body armour reminded him of the still tender, blunt trauma inflicted to his powerful body. Scratches on his helmet were glancing blows from bricks and clubs. One indent looked like the ricochet of a 10mm round. Fratricidal fire? He contemplated. 

With practised ease, he pulled the suit over his feet and lower legs. When the “bag”, as the suit was nicknamed when he was in the Allied Earth Special Forces, was at his waist, he inserted the plumbing into his arse and fitted the sheath to his penis. After sliding his arms into the sleeves, a shrug soon had the garment over his shoulders and ready to close. The sliders pulled the suit closer and enveloped his neck. Gloves and balaclava were next, before powering-up the suit. 

A press to the left forearm mounted keypad started the circuitry of the “anti-suit” and the garment contracted to his exact dimensions as it initiated the bio-supportive functions. A pleasant grunting groan, so common amongst Enforcement and Colonial Marine Special Forces, emitted from deep within his being as the suit adjusted to his size and temperature and began its tender cycles. 

Meyer slipped his feet into ex-marine issue MB469 boots as he looked in the mirror. He wondered, and almost worried, at who could love a face like his. The harsh scarring that was the right hand side of his face was covered with only enough Myomar flesh to allow speech; not smiling or even grimacing. His real lips finished two thirds of the way across his mouth, the remainder plastic and artificial that allowed him to talk without lisping or impediment. Spots of white or surgi-chrome showed through where the skin had not fully taken. What real skin that was there, was bright pink and taut. A pale grey eye stared at a silver and grey mechanical counterpart. 

The helmet was last. It transformed Seth into “Seth Meyer” as most people knew him. The black faceplate covered his face and emotions. The gloss ridges covered and protected the remainder of his hooded head and mounted many receivers and pickups. The helmet completed his extraction from the outside world. It provided food, water, temperature regulated air, data streaming and sensory input far beyond the abilities of the mere mortal being. 

The helmet turned on as soon as the neck seal fastened in place. A rapid blinking test display scrolled up the inside of the dark full-face visor. Preset data displays appeared centrally and moved to appropriate locations within the armoured laminate. 

Meyer looked at his damaged body armour and decided not to wear it. He would request a Justice Department courier to collect it for repair, later. A wide belt and chest harness held pouches, powerpaks, holsters, hyd-paks and additional data storage and handling devices. These he would not do without. A swift motion had the kit on and secure before he looked at his reflection in the mirror. By feel rather than sight, the data devices snapped into place at three points. 

The gloss black, featureless, powerful image that stared back at him was the only image of the man inside that anyone had seen of Seth Meyer for over a decade. Totally covered by the Government Issue version of the CloHab suits, he was totally protected and concealed from the outside environment. He nodded slowly, safe and comfortable once again in anonymity. 

Essentially a shy man, Seth braced himself and placed a personal call, on the Sanctuary internal net, to Natalie. She answered instantly. 

“Do you have a room ready for me, Natalie?” He asked, feeling game that he had dropped the formal use of her full name. 

“Yes, sir.” She sent the room number directly to his visor display. 

It was not his usual accommodation, but a suite arranged by the ever willing Zana. Her co-worker had talked Natalie into having a few drinks in a seedy bar after a shift and gradually shifted the conversation around to Meyer. Too drunk and tired to care, Nat had admitted that she “had a thing for Meyer” and Zana, equally drunk, had promised to help. She made Natalie promise that she would go along with her schemes. Only after Natalie had given her word, had Zana revealed that she had once been a relaxation volunteer and knew quite a bit about tempting the members of the Closed Habitat. 

“It’s all about Domination” she declared, “They either want to dominate, or be dominated!” 

Natalie had her doubts but wanted to hear more. 

“If you get your Seth Meyer into a room, with the kit, it will go one way or the other. All you have to do is assess which and play along.” She went on, diplomatically and carefully explaining what could happen, how, and why, in her opinion, they were a turn-on to men and women. She waxed eloquently, about the various roles and fantasies that she had carried out as a relaxation volunteer. Together they had formulated a plan for Natalie, upon Seth Meyer’s return. 

Seth looked at the signal and frowned with uncertainty. He knew that that area of the Sanctuary had large beds and ensuites. It was for ‘less than dedicated members’ that did not wear the CloHab garb fulltime. Nevertheless, he thanked Natalie and made his way to the allocated room. 

The door opened before he got there… 

Natalie sat, nervous but demure, on a seat in the opposite corner of the room. Meyer entered and instantly drew his weapons at the realisation that the room was being electronically suppressed.

“Seth!” She cried. 

“Don’t move!” He scanned the room, visually and with every sensor he had. 

Natalie froze, not knowing what was going on. Meyer prowled the suite, checking blind corners and hidden spaces. He sent an alert to the Sanctuary Host, informing them of the infringement. 

“Seth Meyer, it is OK. Be calm. The room is secure. It has been arranged for your comfort and relaxation. I authenticate…” Gloria Portric returned. “The room has been reset to the default setting.” 

Meyer verified her authentication and opened a private channel with Portric. They conversed briefly then Meyer replaced his weapons in their holsters. “I am sorry, Natalie Denison. I was alarmed at the electronic atmosphere of this environment. It was an automatic response. I meant no offence!” 
Natalie did not move. 

“You can put your arms down now, Natalie Denison. I mean no harm, you are no threat.” 

Nat lowered her hands and very slowly turned to face him. “I thought you would like…” 

She slumped into a chair and held her head in her hands. I’ve blown it!... She thought. 

Meyer felt stupid, awkward and foolish. It dawned on him that she was trying to look after his best interests. You idiot! 

“Seth, I..” 

“Natalie…” 

They both stopped and waited for the other to speak, and then both tried to talk at once. 

“It’s just…” 

“I thought…” 

They paused, realised the ludicrous situation, and laughed. 

“You first, Natalie. Or would you like me to re-enter… without the weaponry?” Seth offered. 

Natalie lowered her eyes, smiled, and shook her head. “No.” 

She stood, ordered the door closed and locked, and walked over to him. She stood very close. 

Meyer felt no compulsion to move away; instead, he placed a hand on each hip and ever so slightly pulled her to him. 

Nat equalled his bravery by holding him by the waist and pressing her body to him. They stood, unsure as to where to go next, but revelling in the closeness they both longed for.

“Seth Meyer… Seth… I hope I was not too forward in arranging this… room, for you. I did not mean to… It’s just that…” She broke away, held his hands and looked into his eyes. All she saw was the obsidian curve of his faceplate, and her own reflection, equally featureless and blank except for her emotional outpouring. 

Meyer said nothing, trying to gather his thoughts and collect his fleeting feelings, too stunned that such a lovely and intelligent lady would be interested in him. 

Natalie tried to transmit her feelings, she wanted to let him know how she felt, but did not know how, without possibly scaring him off. She sensed his timidity and could understand how he felt. She felt herself out on a very thin branch and was scared to go further. 

“Natalie… I… I like you a lot.” Meyer blurted, suddenly. “I enjoy your company.” 

OK! Here we go… Natalie thought, dreading the next part. She imagined the rest… “I think you’re really sweet, but…” 

“I think you are very sweet, but…” Meyer continued, “…but I do not know how to express it. I would like to spend more time with you. I would like to have you as a partner. I would very much like to sleep with you.” Meyer shocked himself by actually saying what he was thinking. He stepped back and turned away in disgrace and shame. He had unleashed his innermost thoughts and feelings. He felt utterly bare and defenceless. 

Nat did an invisible double-take behind her favourite faceplate. Did I just hear what I thought he said? She stood back and wondered if she had been worrying about nothing. For fucks sake, Nat, don’t let this guy go! 

“Seth?” She stood close behind him, but careful not to stand too close, for fear of being too forward. “Seth, look at me.” 

He turned slowly, pleased but a bit shocked to find her so close to him. Abruptly, he recalled Gloria Portric’s last words and ordered “EmCon: Local. Privacy: Total!” It was the first time he could recall using the command. 

In a distant chamber, Zana said “Damnation! It was just getting good.” 

Gloria Portric smiled invisibly and nodded. “Yes, Zana. But I think that your little problem has been fixed, don’t you?” 

“Yes. I think you are right, Gloria. I think you are right…” 

 

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10.05.04