Short Story: Retrosex (1998)
Retrosex was originally published in The Edge magazine in 1998. It was my first (and arguably last) professional SF sale. Everything I’ve written for magazines or publishers since has fallen within the categories of YA fiction and comic (or humorous) fantasy. It is currently reprinted in my collection ‘Dances With Drumsticks’ and available on Amazon or here in the members area of the site.
I'm having intercourse with Sar23. She's been in Kentucky for two weeks attending the annual Nuclear Disarmament Convention, and I couldn't wait any longer. I think she's enjoying herself - I certainly hope she is - but I can't really tell now I've dropped the radar.
I still haven't got used to retro-conduit copulation, you see: it's a strange old concept. I guess the mental buzz is terrific, but you can't help feeling that any physical pleasure gets a bit lost in the transfer. And somehow it doesn't seem worth it. You can only moan and groan for so long, and at the end of the day, what do you have to show for your efforts? A bucket of sweat and leg-ache from the suction pads.
So how did I become involved in this voluntary pastime? Well, I'll tell you.
I was at Karvo on planet-leave when Stella Trent introduced me to Retrosex. Stella was a British-born colonist who worked at a local travel agent, and I'd been dating her for a few weeks. One night, things started getting serious, and she told me of a brilliant new development in sexual experimentation. No complaints from me; I'm right behind innovation.
In all honesty, I must admit to being taken aback by the configuration process. When she stuck the first pad inside my ear, it suddenly occurred to me that nobody knew where I was. I hadn't told my roommate about Stella: he had this annoying habit of stealing my things.
When all the multicoloured wires had been connected up to the hemispheres of my brain, Stella stripped and fixed herself up likewise. I noticed she had one patch more than I was sporting, and asked her about it. She said she liked to dominate, and the extra patch gave her something she referred to as multifunctional domination. Sounds interesting, I said. By this time, I'm waiting for Jack Duffy from New Candid Camera and his clown crew of funnies.
Then, the icing on the cake: she asks if I carry a modem. Not believing in all the ACRO hype on the news these days, I stated my case in the resoundingly negative. Stella frowns disapprovingly and rewards me with a stern lecture on electronically transmitted diseases. Then she dumps a 336 external on my lap, dresses and (with no further explanation) turns right round and walks out on me.
Ten minutes later, I'm sitting alone in the dark, wondering where I went wrong, when her image flashes up on the PC. She looks a lot better than she did ten minutes ago, face to face: her features seem sharper, somehow. She grins, whispers something in French Colonial and starts massaging her neck suggestively. I've got no idea what's going down, so I decide to fake it and start moaning myself, suppressing the urge to giggle. Imagine my shock, thirty seconds later, when I'm moaning for real.
It starts as a dull throb in your lower back, a strange but not unpleasant sensation. Then it proceeds through your system, electric currents heightening every sense until you forget where you are and don't care who you are. The ensuing climax is state-of-the-art. Imagine you're being given the chance to ?y. You can ride the thermals to foreign summits, but when it comes to swooping and soaring, you lack the ability and experience: you just get carried along by the wind. Retrosex isn't like that: with RS, you know exactly how and when to move without being told. It's almost a spiritual thing; a rare and (I guess) somewhat questionable gift of skill from the gods of pleasure. Unfortunately, like all metaphysical indulgences, it's also a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You can never go back. Not really.
When Stella returned to her apartment that evening, she was all smiles. She recognised a naive grin from her own obviously misspent youth and took pride in the knowledge that my pleasure in the evening had been considerable. When all the equipment was packed away, we settled down together for the evening, and Stella explained how she had planned our date by renting a room at Sorba's across the road. She believes that distance improves the thrill of RS. Eventually, I managed to talk her into sleeping with me. In the same room.
Okay, I was an RS virgin and, looking back, Stella could have drawn little direct pleasure from the whole set-up. I expect she still thinks of me now and then, sitting in that pseudo-swanky apartment of hers, all wide-eyed and eager. She gave me something that night; something special.
Now I spend my life passing it on to others like Sar23, my consistently absent girlfriend. This was her first time; I just hope she enjoyed it. Now the comms are down, I'll just have to wait for a phone call to find out.
