The Sex Gates Read online

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  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Our lovemaking went on for hours—I'm not sure how many. I ravished her. I couldn't get enough of her. And I told her I loved her, again and again, even while I knew it was the pheromone talking. She cried. She cried out at the pleasure she was giving and receiving. She told me she loved me, and I believed her, in the deepest depths of my soul. It was impossible not to believe her.

  Hours later we both collapsed into the bed, exhausted, as the effects began to wane. As I slowly came to my senses, I realized my body was shaking. I couldn't help wondering about side effects. The pheromones were illegal, so I doubted much research had been done. Of course, that didn't stop them from being used, especially by the rich looking for a new thrill.

  Like most males, I've fantasized about using a pheromone on a girl, but that's all it amounted to: fantasy. I would never want to trick someone into sex, and I never expected a friend of mine to do it to me. Now that I was thinking rationally again, it hurt to realize that Donna, my old friend, would tamper with my mind.

  Donna was curled up on her side, lost in a deep sleep. That was one side effect, one that hit the person taking the pheromone. She would be unconscious for several hours.

  I eased out of her bed, gathered up my discarded clothes and shoes, and crept back to my own bedroom, struggling to think through a haze of exhausted satiation. Mostly I was amazed that Donna would risk using a pheromone to seduce me. Possession carries a long prison sentence. And where would she get her hands on the powders? North Houston has less drug use than most areas of the country. The few illegal mood changers were almost never seen here.

  As I slumped into my own bed, I didn't know whether to be sorry or glad that she had used it on me. A part of me hated her for tricking me, yet images from our hours of passionate lovemaking continued to flash through my mind. I craved more. That's one of the other side effects. It creates an attraction, acts like a bonding agent between two people. But did it create it from nothing, or had I felt something for Donna before?

  I would never know the truth now. But I also knew that Donna and I would become regular lovers. My inhibitions about touching her had been burned to ash in the flame of our desire. The memory of her soft skin, her warm mouth, her full breasts, would draw me back to her. I lay in the bed with my eyes half closed, picturing her nude body moving above mine as we made love, and my heart pounded with desire.

  Some distant corner of my mind stopped the images long enough to remind me about Rita. How would this affect my relationship with her? Sure, she had encouraged me to sleep with Donna, but I was sure she'd never imagined that Donna would seduce me with pheromones.

  Despite these worries, I must have fallen into an exhausted sleep, because when I woke up, Rita was in bed beside me. I sat up, startled, and she opened her eyes and smiled.

  “You were snoring. You only do that when you're really tired.” She giggled, like someone with a secret.

  “What do you mean?” Guilt made me feel defensive.

  “Don't worry. I know you had sex with Donna."

  I searched her face in the shadows but saw no sign of anger.

  A feeling of relief swept over me. I found that I wanted to talk about my incredible experience. “You don't sound angry."

  “Why should I be? I've told you from the start that you should make love to her."

  “Now that it's happened, I'm not sure how I feel about it.” I shook my head and told her about the pheromones. She listened, her expression serious, and immediately reassured me on one point anyway.

  “The bonding effects wear off in a few days. One of my psych professors did some research on it, even though the drug is illegal. In a week or so, you'll know what you really feel for Donna. Meanwhile, the ice is broken, so to speak."

  That wasn't all that was broken. In the course of our passion, I had learned that when a man went through the gate, it did a complete job of creating a woman. I felt tenderness toward Donna, knowing I'd been her first, and compassion and love for Rita, for her openness and generous heart. Would I have been so generous?

  A paranoid thought occurred to me. Was she encouraging Donna and me to get together because she wanted some distance between us? I hesitated, but had to ask. “Do you still love me?"

  She threw an arm over my chest. “More than ever, you dope. I don't ever want to be separated from you. Or Donna, either."

  A sense of relief flooded through me, and I missed the inclusion of Donna in her affirmation. I sighed. “I'm glad. I feel the same way. I only hope I can forgive Donna."

  “For what, Mr. Stud?"

  “For seducing me with a pheromone. That still bothers me."

  Rita laughed and threw me a playful wink. “But she didn't. I slipped it into her caddy before I left. I knew she would have a nightcap before going to sleep."

  I sat bolt upright, forgetting all about my tired body. “You did! Why?"

  She shrugged as if she had done nothing worse than give Donna a backrub before leaving. “I got tired of waiting on you to come to your senses. Don't try to tell me you're sorry it happened."

  Now I was really shaken. Donna was innocent. And Rita said she was only trying to help us both. Was I getting to be that stodgy about sex?

  It was more than I wanted to think about. “I can't say I didn't enjoy the experience, but it will take me a few days to process it. Besides that, you took a big risk. What if you had gotten caught with an illegal drug?"

  “Why, I would have swallowed it down, seduced the cop and made my getaway. Don't you know that women will do all sorts of crazy things when they're in love?"

  “I didn't, but I think I'm learning.” I dropped the subject. I was exhausted, but still thinking well enough to realize an argument would only result in two women mad at me.

  Fortunately, I had a new subject to distract Rita. “Would you like to go to Temple with me in the morning?"

  “Sure, why not? What's going on there?"

  “I'll tell you in the morning. Let's get some sleep, or I'll never be able to drive."

  I curled up against Rita and dozed right off. My dreams were beautiful.

  * * * *

  Donna was still asleep when we left the next morning, and we didn't try to wake her up, knowing that the aftereffects of the pheromone would probably keep her in bed until noon. To reassure her, I left her a long note telling her I couldn't wait to see her again.

  Russell wasn't there, either. The way he was practically living at the lab, I was beginning to feel guilty charging him rent. But maybe it was just as well he wasn't around much right now, while I worked out my relationship with Donna.

  It was going to change—that much I knew for sure. Somehow while I was sleeping, my mind had cleared and I saw things differently. Don was gone forever and Donna was one beautiful woman. I found myself wanting to get my business taken care of as soon as possible so that I could get back and see her again.

  I splurged on two complete natural breakfasts for me and Rita at McDonald's, then we got on the road. Temple is way up in northeast Texas, a three-hour drive about on the NAFTA, then another half hour or so on a state highway. On the way, I told Rita about the doctor who had managed what had heretofore been considered impossible, a second successful passage through a gate. She was as eager as I was to talk to him, though neither of us had figured out yet how to go about seeing him.

  “I should have bought two doses of pheromone,” Rita joked. “That way I could slip it in his coffee or something and get the information out of him in bed."

  “We don't know that he has any new information, yet."

  “He must. He's the only person that we know of so far who has managed two passages. Just examining his new body or talking to him ought to tell us something."

  “Okay, let's make that our strategy. All we want is a little time with him. We'll even offer him payment, if that's what he wants."

  “You'll have to do the offeri
ng. I spent all my money on Donna yesterday."

  I grinned. “Fine. I'll offer money; you offer him your tender young body."

  “Don't joke. If it comes to that, I might."

  I couldn't decide whether she was kidding me or not.

  As it turned out, it made no difference. We were too late by several hours. I managed a few words with his son by mentioning that we had a mutual friend (without ever telling him who it was). He was too distraught to ask. During the night a squad of Secret Service agents had arrived and whisked his father away, citing some obscure national security code. Their lawyer had been unable to find out where he was being held.

  I recorded our brief conversation, added the necessary background information, and forwarded the packet to Mary while we made the drive back.

  Although I was disappointed, I still had a scoop. I knew Mary would find me an editor who would pay top dollar for the news that someone had gone through the gates twice. Besides, the drive itself was pleasant. The East Texas piney woods are still relatively unspoiled; in fact, since composite materials had become so universally used in construction, much of the old logged-over timber was making a comeback.

  I was feeling mellow and pleasantly satisfied, so much so that I decided to call Dad and Mom and see how they were doing and if they were agreeable to us stopping on the way back.

  I didn't recognize Dad's voice when he answered the phone, of course. He had to tell me twice that it was really him before I got it into my feeble mind that he was now not only young again, but female besides. He laughed about it and told us to come on by.

  They must have realized it would be strange seeing them for the first time. They were waiting on the lawn when I drove up—a young man and a young woman waving at my car. At first I wondered who the heck was standing in my parents’ yard, then I knew. It was them.

  After the first shock wore off, I decided they looked like a couple of my cousins. They still retained a faint resemblance to old photos of when they were young, but it was like a distorted mirror image because each of them looked the way they would have if they had been born a different sex.

  I greeted them in the yard with a guarded smile, as if I were meeting two strangers. Rita was the one who got out and hugged them both. Yet I couldn't deny that these were my parents. The feeling of blood was still strong between us.

  Soon we were inside, sitting at the kitchen table. It felt surreal to sit in these familiar surroundings and watch two people younger than me act exactly like my parents. Dad was brimming with energy and chattered on about the change as he puttered around the kitchen, making coffee and setting out snacks. (I had to keep reminding myself this was my dad. He had always left the kitchen chores to Mom.)

  “Son, you and Rita can't possibly imagine how good I feel now. You'll have to grow old and feeble yourselves before you understand how old age drains the sap from your body."

  “You always told me that experience compensated for age."

  “It does, but retaining all that knowledge and experience in a young body is sort of like how I felt when I switched from a typewriter to a computer. It's wonderful!” He danced a little step by the kitchen stove. “I feel like I could fight a cage full of tigers!"

  “How about you, Mr. Stuart?” Rita asked.

  Mom smiled and rubbed at the whiskers on her face. Evidently, she hadn't gotten into the habit of wiping her beard off every morning yet. “I guess I am the mister now, aren't I? But please don't call us Mr. and Mrs. Stuart. I've told you that before, and it sounds silly now when we're younger than you are. Anyway, physically, it's like Edie says, but I'm still having trouble adjusting to this body."

  “Edie? Are you changing your names, too?"

  Dad shrugged her slender shoulders and grinned. “Take a good look at me and see how you would like being called Ed."

  I did. He resembled nothing so much as a young girl ready to graduate from high school. I looked at Mom, a solid young man dressed in new jeans and long-sleeved work shirt with rolled-up sleeves, just the way Dad used to dress. “Are you taking a new name, too, Mom?"

  “Yes. I guess we were lucky already having names that were easy to change. You can call me Bert now instead of Bertha or Mom.” He smiled gently at me, as if he knew how disoriented I must be. I wondered how Grandpa would have felt had he still been around.

  Edie poured coffee and set out a plate of old-fashioned molasses cookies. (I began calling the folks by their new names during that visit. To tell the truth, it helped. I started to think of them as someone else than my parents, as a brother and sister who were very close to me. Call it denial if you want, but life had not prepared me to be older than my folks.)

  “What are your plans now?” I asked. Of course, Dad's military retirement checks wouldn't stop for six months, but that still might leave them short before too long. Grandpa had left them a lot of money, but not enough to support them through a whole new life, especially the way the markets were reacting to the changes wrought by the gates.

  “We're thinking of going back into the military if they ever decide to accept the sex-changed population."

  That made some sense. The military had been Dad's whole life until he retired, and being female would present no hindrance. He had worked in weapons testing at first and later, as he rose in rank, procurement.

  “Sounds like a good idea. Will you sell the house?” I hoped not. Every time I came back to visit, it was like leaving the twenty-first century and traveling back in time to a gentler, more reasonable society.

  Edie rubbed her chin as if feeling for whiskers, a male mannerism she hadn't abandoned yet. “I hope we don't ever have to. In fact, we've been talking about asking you and Rita to move back here after you've finished with school, whether we go anywhere or not. Let me show you something."

  She got up from the table and fetched a magazine from her study. I recognized it at once: National Geographic, the one national magazine that never seemed to falter, regardless of how much the media changed. I had grown up with it, and part of my interest in general science derived from it.

  She thumbed through the pages until she found the article she was looking for, then handed it to me. Rita bent her head to study it with me. It was another article about global warming. I scanned through it, noting that the author emphasized the prominence of the scientists he quoted. There was a map projecting the prospective new coastlines of the world, including America, and this issue focused on the Gulf Coast.

  The map displayed the Gulf of Mexico grown larger, with fingers extending well into Old Houston. The rising waters even took in bits of North Houston, like amoeba pseudopods searching out new territory. The date at the top of the map was not that many years in the future.

  “With all the turmoil from the gates, people have forgotten about other problems,” Edie said, “but that doesn't mean global warming is going away. You kids,” he smiled when he said that, looking over at his young partner, “might be much safer here than in North Houston before too much longer."

  I could imagine. Where would all the Fourth Worlders of Old Houston go when the waters covered their city? How would they feed themselves or earn a living? The city was already at the boiling point with unrest caused by high unemployment and diminution of government handouts.

  Rita looked thoughtful. I studied the map with a sense of foreboding. The gates had already taught me that life could change in unexpected ways.

  “We'll certainly consider it. If we do, there might be more than just, um, Rita and I."

  “No problem. I'm planning on renovating and enlarging the place anyway, while money is still worth something."

  “Do you think there's going to be another financial crisis?” My mind snapped into high gear, reviewing where I had my money invested.

  Edie rubbed her chin again. “I don't see how we can avoid it. The gates have the whole world in an uproar, for all the good they do.” Dad had always been very smart with money; I saw no reason to disbelieve him.


  We visited a while longer, then got back on the road. “Funny,” I remarked after we turned onto the NAFTA and headed south, “that was like meeting old friends you haven't seen for a while. It's going to take me some time to get used to them as they are now."

  “You're not alone. People all over the world are going through the same adjustments. It's probably every bit as strange to them as it is to you."

  * * * *

  Mary certainly worked fast. As we left Ruston, my latest scoop came on the webs. Almost all of them carried it. Rita hugged me as if I had won the Medal of Honor. She was a little premature with her congratulations. The program was abruptly cancelled and replaced with other ‘ports, and the Secret Service was waiting on us when we pulled into my driveway.

  Neither Rita nor I had ever been arrested, so it was a new experience for both of us, even though the agents didn't call it an arrest. Their spokesman said it was “protective custody.” They hustled us into a government van while Donna watched from the front porch. There wasn't even any time to speak to her.

  “I want a lawyer,” I said to the chief agent, who had introduced himself as Whitley Hortz. He was seated in the captain's chair right in front of us. I twisted my wrists against the tight plastic bonds.

  “Mr. Stuart, let me inform you: Under national security directive 3011-4A, signed into law this morning by President Forbes, you are not entitled to legal representation. We are allowed to hold you sixty days before taking you to court and another sixty with a judge's concurrence."

  “That's not fair!” Rita cried.

  Perhaps not, but I decided not to argue. Besides all the laws passed after the constitutional amendment of the Bill of Rights, many laws were being passed and signed by the president concerning the gates in one fashion or another. I couldn't keep up with all of them. And I already was sure about the reason we had been arrested: Doctor Walter Renfrow, the first person known to have passed successfully through a gate twice.