His mind would wander and he’d find himself imagining Jane under him, moaning. Jane draped over him, satisfied. Jane pressed against a wall, her legs wrapped around him, kissing him as he…. He tore his eyes away and mentally cursed himself for being such a dick. She was going through some terrible thing and all he could think about was sex.
He tried to wrap the towel around himself, but that didn’t actually conceal anything. The fabric was too thin. It was just comical. He looked around but couldn’t see any other recourse. Fuck. He stood there another minute, trying not to look at her, trying to think through complex equations, baseball stats, conjuring images of dead puppies, anything that might make his problem go away.
“Anytime now, Alan.”
Now? Now she decides to use my first name? Her back was to him again, so he stepped forward, dropping the towel, and loaded his uninjured hand with the crystals. He stayed well away from her and rubbed it over her back. She pulled her hair forward, out of his way, bowing her head. Her skin was unbelievably soft, smooth. He ran his hand over her shoulders and couldn’t seem to stop himself from being thorough and getting it all, all the way down to her ass. He’d gone too far, surely, but she didn’t complain, didn’t move, just waited patiently.
He said in a strangled voice, “Your hair is, ah, still….”
She sighed and picked the tail of her hair off her shoulder, examining it. “I know. I can’t get it clean. It was so dirty, I think it just soaked up that stuff.”
He should turn around and walk away, but instead he offered, “I still have a lot of soap on my hand. I could—”
“Ok.” She swung her hair back and it landed with a wet slap between her shoulder blades. Like him, she’d probably been a tow-head as a child, and couldn’t give that up as she aged. The tips of her hair were still bright, golden blonde, the same color it had been when he’d met her, but as her hair had grown over the journey, it had grown in several shades darker.
He caught her hair in his hand and raked his fingers through it gently, trying to evenly distribute the cleanser.
This…this is a really bad idea.
“I haven’t had long hair like this since I was a little girl. I’m not even sure how to take care of it properly.”
“Really?” he squeaked. He was regressing, apparently. He cleared his throat. “I used to give my little sisters their baths sometimes. They hated washing their hair.”
“That’s sweet. How old were you?”
“I don’t know. Probably ten or eleven.” He reached up and smoothed his hand over the top of her head, still combing out the tangles with his fingers. He’d gotten closer somehow and could see the peaks of her breasts over her shoulder. He tried not to groan. If she so much as brushed up against him right now, he’d probably explode. Suddenly all the repressed need of the last year was crashing over him. It’s not like there’d ever been an opportunity to take care of it himself. There were always five pairs of ears just inches away.
Oh, God this is torture.
What if I tell her I want her? Maybe she needs a little romp, too….
No. Don’t be a moron. That would ruin everything.
“Maybe I should just dump a bunch of this stuff on my head and it’ll come clean.”
He barely registered that she’d spoken. Suddenly she was twisting, turning, reaching out to get more soap. He didn’t have time to think, to react preemptively. She saw. Clearly she saw him in all his glory. She’d been less guarded, too, though, when she’d turned, showing herself fully to him as well.
He waited, stricken, to see what she would do.
She straightened and turned away very slowly. “Thank you. I think I can take it from here.”
“Jane—”
Ajaya came bustling in. “How is it going in here?”
Oh, fuck. What next?
He moved back under the sluice of water. “Jane, the water’s a little hot, can you adjust it?” he asked quietly.
“I…certainly.” She reached out tentatively to touch a symbol. “How’s that?”
The temperature changed instantly, but only by a few degrees. “More,” he prompted. “A lot more.”
“Ok.” She tapped it several more times, glancing at him with a blank expression and hooded eyes.
“That’s…good.” He closed his eyes and stood there stiffly, letting the water do its work. He tried not to think about what had just happened, but wasn’t terribly successful.
He’d always thought she secretly felt the same way, that the attraction was mutual. But now…her reaction…he wasn’t sure. She was definitely straight-laced. She played by the rules. That would always be a factor. That’s why he always knew he’d have to wait. The mission came first. He knew that logically, and yet, he’d always hoped that they might indulge themselves secretly at some point. He was too much of a hedonist to give up that hope, even now, faced with damn-near rejection.
They’d been lectured extensively in Houston about not giving in to what had been called “inevitable impulses,” citing the potential impact on crew cohesion, performance, and mission success. Then there’d been the sessions where a cognitive behavioral therapist counseled the crew on strategies to cope with long-term abstinence. He tried to bring some of those strategies to mind now, but they hadn’t been terribly memorable and he doubted they’d have been helpful in any case. He should have paid more attention at the time.
It didn’t take long to cool off. He sauntered back to the discarded towel, dried off and cinched it around his waist, then occupied himself with poking around the room, which contained little of interest.
“I found these kimono-like garments that might do for the moment,” Ajaya said, holding up a swath of khaki green fabric that could have been a bed sheet. “This is the smallest size I could find. These people must be quite tall and robust.” Bergen slipped it on and wrapped it around himself. It was a thin, filmy material. The hem was below his knees and the sleeves were deep, to the waist. The tie was really long and slung very low. It was pretty ridiculous. He was completely over the whole process, ready to be done with it.
The computer’s voice spoke again and Jane directed them back to the central room, then through a newly opened door. It was a fairly small room, dominated by another platform, this one squarish, waist-high, with just one large step in front of it. The platform itself appeared to be glass. At Ajaya’s request, Jane queried the computer about the light therapy and said that it was commonly used for many types of skin afflictions. The wavelengths used were manipulated based on diagnosis. A drawer opened, revealing small oval pieces of greenish plastic that Jane said were eye protection.
“I’ll just wait out here,” Bergen said firmly, avoiding both of their gazes.
“It expects us to—”
“Well, I’ll just skip it then. You have my clothes, Ajaya?”
Ajaya narrowed her eyes and stepped in front of him, picking up and examining his hand with a cool, professional air. “I think it would be a good idea to try the therapy, Alan. This burn is pretty severe. You could develop scarring that could impede the use of your hand.”
“We don’t know what kind of methodology they use. It could give us skin cancer for all we know,” he countered.
Jane touched his arm lightly. “It’s ok, Alan.”
He sighed heavily. “Fine.”
“Good. I’ll wait out here and I expect a full report. This is quite exciting for me, you see. My graduate work was based on light therapy for psoriasis patients.”
They stepped inside and the door closed behind them.
“Turn around,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended. She complied without comment and he untied the robe. “Are we supposed to stand up there or what?”