Brian pounded on the door some more. "You realize that this is wholly improper!" he yelled. There was no response but the sound of fabric on fabric. Then Kata let out a soft moan.
Slut, thought Brian. He turned from the door and leaned against the wall. Didn't she know that her soul was in mortal peril? Or didn't she care? And if she was going to condemn herself to hell, why choose Arden?
Cheom's flying hippos! He imagined that he could hear them kiss, hear their vile mucousy tongues rubbing, hear Arden's grubby fingers gripping her breast through her silk gown.
I should have stuck to psychology, he thought. It was easier to talk to disorganized schizophrenics than to carry out the will of Cheom. It just wasn't fair. Brian looked around to make sure that nobody was nearby, then adjusted himself so that his state would not be obvious.
"You two are revolting," he said, then turned and walked stiffly away from Arden's room. He knew, with a certain amount of despair, that when temptation grew to strong, there remained only one way to worship Cheom. Yes, it must have been his imagination, because now that he was nearing his own quarters he could still hear them. Like rutting animals. It worried him. Hearing the Voice of God was one thing, but hearing other voices might just mean that he was losing it. He was momentarily distracted by a loud slurping sound, then took a deep breath and entered the damaged escape pod that he used as his room.
Why Arden? The man was a pig. Worse than a pig. An octopig. He was just using her, Brian thought, using her as an orifice in which to spend his dirty seed. He doesn't care how fragile she is, or how tenuous her grasp on reality. He'll just use her and throw her away when he gets bored. He reminded Brian of a cat.
Why did Nick have to die?
Nick had been good for her. Arden is... well, we'll see.
He could see it, without even closing his eyes: 'Kata's head back, her dark hair falling about her shoulders, a strand stuck to her lip and a few others in her eyes, ignored. The silk gown unlaced and pulled down to expose a breast. Her openmouthed smile as Arden's tongue caressed her nipple, as he gently bit that erect pink. Her chest heaving, the gown raised to her her waist, her breathing quickening. He imagined the sharp gasp, her body convulsing, her nails digging, deep, into Arden's bed.
Brian opened a drawer and pulled out a box. He opened the box and lifted out its contents.
"Must I do this thing?" he asked aloud.
Yes. The answer was whispered in the back of his mind.
Brian took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then slid the sandpaper glove on his right hand and lifted up his robe with the left.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "Damn her, damn her to hell!" Brian frowned. No, its not her fault. I am the damned one.
I am the one who fell in love.