than hers, but I wasn't sure, and in any event, it wasn't worth the effort. So I lay there, conscious of her right breast nudging my cheek as she breathed and of the sight of her left breast through the parted robe, and I relaxed.
When she saw that I was willing to rest, she released her hold and kissed me. Then she stretched out beside me on the bed and slept herself, lightly and instantly, like a cat. It is intended as no affront to Coral that I wished she was Megan; the separation from my wife remained fresh and painful but final; when Megan had consented to unite with me, that had been final, and when she sundered that union, for reasons that were certainly sufficient, that, too, was final. It was I who had changed, not her, I had passed from the stage of Politician to the stage of Tyrant, and she had never consented to be married to the latter. I understood, respected her decision fully, and did not question it, but still there was a void without her.
My tension alerted Coral, who woke. “Damn it, sir, sleep! ” she whispered. She changed position, took hold of my head, and drew it in to her bosom. It was a fine and fragrant bosom, but I think it was more the feeling of her arms around me, holding me close, that brought my submission. Helse had held me that way, so long ago, and Roulette, too, less long ago, and Shelia, recently. I relaxed, comforted, and suddenly slept.
Bio of a Space Tyrant 4 - Executive
Chapter 4 — BETWEEN CT AND BH
I woke many hours later, somewhat refreshed. Coral was up, of course; she had always had a fast recharge time.
We assembled for breakfast—I'm not sure what the hour actually was, but we treated it as morning—at the White Bubble dining room, served by the WB staff. Spirit, Coral, Shelia, Ebony, Hopie, and Robertico. I don't remember what we ate; my attention has been increasingly absorbed by concerns other than food as I grow older, so I tend not to notice meals, anyway, unless they are for some reason remarkable in their own right.
I deliberately kept the conversation on trivial matters, I would soon enough be overwhelmed by the consequential ones. “Hopie, we'll have to arrange for your education,” I said.
She made a wry face. “Daddy, I'm fifteen years old. Most of what they teach in school is useless, anyway. I'd be better off without it.”
The others ate, remaining carefully neutral. They knew I supported education.
“I had in mind bringing in a competent tutor,” I said. “Surely she would teach you useful material.”
“But the required courses are jokes!” she protested. “Even the best teachers can't make a pointless course worthwhile.”
I frowned. “What course is pointless?”
She hesitated, realizing that she could walk into a mire of her own making. Teenagers can be imperious, but they are not, despite some appearances, total fools. “What courses did you take, Daddy, once you were my age?”
That set me back, for my formal schooling had abruptly stopped at that age. That had been by no choice of mine, however. “I had some lessons from life,” I said. “I would have preferred those of school.”
“So you had no more school—and where are you now?” she demanded triumphantly.
“But I did have further education,” I pointed out. “I took many courses in the Navy—more than I would have in normal school. I learned a great deal.”
“But those were military classes. At least they had some application to life.”
“Many were,” I agreed. “But many were necessary to fill out the education I had not gained from school.”
She changed her tack. “Well, did they teach you geometry?”
“Certainly. In space, maneuvers are three-dimensional, and a proper understanding is essential to—”
“ Plane geometry,” she said with disdain. “How to solve triangles by erecting perpendiculars with a compass and straightedge. You did that?”
"Well, no, not exactly. We used the computer simulations to do the underlying calculations and
When she saw that I was willing to rest, she released her hold and kissed me. Then she stretched out beside me on the bed and slept herself, lightly and instantly, like a cat. It is intended as no affront to Coral that I wished she was Megan; the separation from my wife remained fresh and painful but final; when Megan had consented to unite with me, that had been final, and when she sundered that union, for reasons that were certainly sufficient, that, too, was final. It was I who had changed, not her, I had passed from the stage of Politician to the stage of Tyrant, and she had never consented to be married to the latter. I understood, respected her decision fully, and did not question it, but still there was a void without her.
My tension alerted Coral, who woke. “Damn it, sir, sleep! ” she whispered. She changed position, took hold of my head, and drew it in to her bosom. It was a fine and fragrant bosom, but I think it was more the feeling of her arms around me, holding me close, that brought my submission. Helse had held me that way, so long ago, and Roulette, too, less long ago, and Shelia, recently. I relaxed, comforted, and suddenly slept.
Bio of a Space Tyrant 4 - Executive
Chapter 4 — BETWEEN CT AND BH
I woke many hours later, somewhat refreshed. Coral was up, of course; she had always had a fast recharge time.
We assembled for breakfast—I'm not sure what the hour actually was, but we treated it as morning—at the White Bubble dining room, served by the WB staff. Spirit, Coral, Shelia, Ebony, Hopie, and Robertico. I don't remember what we ate; my attention has been increasingly absorbed by concerns other than food as I grow older, so I tend not to notice meals, anyway, unless they are for some reason remarkable in their own right.
I deliberately kept the conversation on trivial matters, I would soon enough be overwhelmed by the consequential ones. “Hopie, we'll have to arrange for your education,” I said.
She made a wry face. “Daddy, I'm fifteen years old. Most of what they teach in school is useless, anyway. I'd be better off without it.”
The others ate, remaining carefully neutral. They knew I supported education.
“I had in mind bringing in a competent tutor,” I said. “Surely she would teach you useful material.”
“But the required courses are jokes!” she protested. “Even the best teachers can't make a pointless course worthwhile.”
I frowned. “What course is pointless?”
She hesitated, realizing that she could walk into a mire of her own making. Teenagers can be imperious, but they are not, despite some appearances, total fools. “What courses did you take, Daddy, once you were my age?”
That set me back, for my formal schooling had abruptly stopped at that age. That had been by no choice of mine, however. “I had some lessons from life,” I said. “I would have preferred those of school.”
“So you had no more school—and where are you now?” she demanded triumphantly.
“But I did have further education,” I pointed out. “I took many courses in the Navy—more than I would have in normal school. I learned a great deal.”
“But those were military classes. At least they had some application to life.”
“Many were,” I agreed. “But many were necessary to fill out the education I had not gained from school.”
She changed her tack. “Well, did they teach you geometry?”
“Certainly. In space, maneuvers are three-dimensional, and a proper understanding is essential to—”
“ Plane geometry,” she said with disdain. “How to solve triangles by erecting perpendiculars with a compass and straightedge. You did that?”
"Well, no, not exactly. We used the computer simulations to do the underlying calculations and
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