360 Forever Young

"Hrm?!" Titanyana's back arched in response to the cold liquid on her back, the chill running up her spine and down her tail causing her squirm.

"Muehehehehehe~" A hand slapped down on the cold spot, splattering it further along the curve and furthering the discomfort. "Cold?"

"VERY!!!" Titanyana could not fathom why Diana would not at least warn her of the impending freeze.

"Good, gooood." Further spasms invoked by Diana's hands washing down the side of her chest and towards her fore were suppressed by . "I had it chilled for this very reason, hehehehe."

"Why?!?!"

"Hmmm, to get a rise out of you . . . and Donovan!" She leaned down, pressing her breasts into her Titanyana's shoulder blades as she indulged in a smidge of friendly molestation. "It's a thin fabric, don't you know? Drop the temperature a bit and these little nips of yours will poke right through."

"H-huh?!"

"Mmm, can't imagine he'll be able to keep it down after seeing you glistening with the girlies at the ready." The victim of Diana's lecherous machinations now performed her best impression of a tomato, the heat generation by the blushing threatening to counteract the effects of the suntan oil being applied. "He's in the same boat, you know? His trunks are a bit thicker, but they'll be no issue. Trust me kitten, you'll know."

A different type of chill ran down Titanyana's spine at the conclusion of Diana's suggestive growl, carrying with it the resolve to power through this embarrassment. For the sake of greater romance and carnal indulgence, she begrudgingly bit down on the towel.

"Oho?" A quick pinch immediately threatened to break that newfound resolve, but the brief duration could not quite get her over that edge. "Good kitty."

The embarrassment threatened to kill her, Diana's overly lewd advances cutting deeper than the chills emanating from the applied oil. Their difference in size was similarly suffocating, though height had little to do with it.

- - - - -

"I could have carried it for you, Monda." Donovan dropped the collection of bags onto the sand in sequence as he walked next to their umbrella, the private nature of this stretch of beach left him with no shortage of space to spread them out. "I can stomach another trip."

"Oh no, no I couldn't make you do that." She giggled, tugging on the sundress concealing the markedly more revealing swimsuit Diana had selected for her in order to cool off. "Besides, I'm very much used to handling my own luggage. This much is nothing!"

"Donovan!" He'd been about to say something to her, perhaps a question about the arrangement or a comment on how little he cared for such formalities, but such an action was interrupted by the call from his significant other. "Time to apply sun tan oil!"

"Gimme a second to get everything out, Diana, I've only got two hands."

"Mmm, but I've prepared a present for you! So I suggest you partake of it before the heat gets to it." She got around behind him and started pushing towards the freestanding fabric lean-to that was to be their tent for the day. "He'll be back shortly, Monda."

"Oh, um, no worries! I was just going to set up my tent and spend most of the day reading, so-"

"Ah, no, sorry girly. I won't be tolerating such activities on the day off I've so generously provided for you~" Diana recalled the brief verbal spar she'd had with Muarikyo to win the girl her temporary freedom. "We'll be playing volleyball and making an attempt at surfing, and you will be joining me for both!"

"T-that, um, I don't-"

"No ifs, ands, or buts!" She emphasized her 'but' both vocally and by slammed her rear against her dearly beloved to get him moving. "The book will be there for a normal day off, the beach will not. Besides, Titanyana needs someone on her team!"

"O-okay?"

"Don't worry about athleticism, I'm not much better!" Her enthusiastic pushing transitioned to hands clasped around his, shamelessly pulling the captive arm into her bosom as if to flaunt her choice in clothing. The sheer audacity to do such a thing before the Archbishop of Chastity of all things honestly made Monda . . . jealous. A thought such as that warranted immediate contemplation on her behalf, and so she raised no further protest to Diana's assertion. "Mmm, you should wear a shirt less often."

"I feel like I barely wear one as is, and you want me to wear it less?"

"Every lady wants to flaunt her trophy about, sort of like a big fish. Having a bigger fish than all of your friends makes you look like a better fisher, even if you aren't." A quick peck on the bicep was all the emphasis she needed. "I've got the biggest fish, so therefore I must look like the best fisher."

"And what does that make Titanyana?" He rounded the corner to a sight most obscene - Titanyana, sprawled out on a towel with an arm covering her eyes, panting sensually as she glistened in the light filtered through the fine fabric above. The image stopped him in his tracks, mind immediately defaulting to some sort of ploy on Diana's behalf to fast track the young lady into an encounter of the reproductive variety.

"Bait." For a moment, one waning instant in time, he felt as though his reason and will to resist could have been made to crack. A beautiful young women who had promised herself to him lay vulnerable at his feet, wearing a minimal amount of clothing, and evidently in cahoots with his regular partner to arrange such an event. The pleading glare she presented as the arm slid to the side nearly pushed him to the edge, the blush and shift of her body to cover that which had not even been exposed. If only her wingwoman hadn't fumbled the closer. "Eh, Eh!"

"What are you doing?" The applicator of force on his torso shifted from open palms, to forearms, to her back, but despite all of her pushing Donovan remained solidly upright. 

"I'm, HRMMMM, trying to push you on top of her!" Any feelings of lust that may have been provoked by the expertly crafted scenario were washed away by the incomprehensibility of his dearly beloved's actions. Surely they'd been together long enough for her to know what would and would not work on him, right? How could she engineer something around his tastes so finely just to trip up on the final pass? Had she not performed this exact same song and dance many nights before to perfection?  Did she not understand she needed to reel him in from the front, not push from behind? Was she not the best 'fisher'? He could only imagine this was a result of her not intending this to escalate beyond mere arousal, or perhaps this scheme of hers was not centered on him to begin with. "Yeah, uh, can you just fall down on her now? You need to oil up her tummy."

"Diana, you need to stop sexually harassing her." Ignoring the painfully obvious inuendo, he grabbed Diana's wrist and pulled her across a leg extended marginally beyond his usual footprint. It was a masterful display of throwing someone off-balance, as masterful as it could be called against someone so clumsy in the art of self defense, and she landed squarely on her rump next to her victim. "She's not a toy to live out your sexual fantasies through."

"And what if she wants it?"

"I beg you to consider to the ramifications of copulation in the presence of a foreign dignitary."

"Cop-, what? I wasn't going to-"

"Look at her, Diana." He gestured towards the hot mess beside her, taking note of glimmer on Diana's stomach. It didn't take much thinking to deduce how intimate she'd been with Titanyana, it wasn't like she was hiding the evidence of her crime either. "In the privacy of a room, maybe I'd let it slide, but we are on a beach."

"A private beach."

"With an Archbishop of the Theocracy just outside!!!" 

"Ahem, securing Titanyana's succession takes priority . . ."

"Diana."

". . . I'm sorry." She should have known that excuse would never work. How insistent had she been that she get pregnant first? "I just wanted to live out my beachside fantasies while I have the chance. After we leave it's going to be work work work work work, and I'm not gonna be young forever!"

"That's not an excuse-"

"It's not an excuse! I'm fully aware this could be an issue, but I saw an opportunity to live out a fantasy I might never get to fulfill otherwise and I couldn't help myself! Like, for now, we don't really have many active duties to attend to, but in five years? Ten years? We are going to have children, and massive responsibilities. We won't get to have a day at the beach, to just relax and play without a care in the world!" The joy on her face had been replaced by something approaching spite. "I've lost a lot, I won't be losing my youth too."

Extending back on the towel, Diana grabbed the bottle of oil and tossed it at him.

"Now, oil me up!" Joy returned immediately, her unchallengeable desire for mischief stronger than whatever premonition of misery possessed her just moments prior. "And Titanyana. I want to see how you react to a tan."

- - - - -

For the second day in a row she collapsed in the back seat, even more exhausted than the day prior. The sun, it seemed, was a much bigger drain on her endurance than shopping could ever be, not to mention the hell that had been 'volley ball'. There was little doubt in her mind surfing would have been the death of her had Donovan not judged the waves unsuitable (they were pretty rough today). Monda was, much to her dismay, not cut out for the same level of physical activity as her guests. 

Titanyana's agility saved her from complete embarrassment during volleyball though, light weight and nimble legs more than capable of making up for her lack of exercise and clumsy form. It was much more difficult to hit the ball with wrist together when her chest got in the way, and she couldn't jump high enough to hit the ball over the net, so she spent most of the time setting the ball for Titanyana rather than spiking or volleying. Thanks to this being a sport designed without Split as an option Titanyana was able to manage, but she owed that to Diana being only slightly less terrible than herself. 

"We'll see you tomorrow!" The muted voice from the other side of the window shook her from an almost immediate slumber, Diana waving enthusiastically with her forehead against the tinted glass in the few moments before the car began to roll forward. As Monda waved back, she could not help but wonder how that woman could still have the energy for such enthusiasm, though she supposed Donovan barely looked tired either.

She'd done a lot of looking at him, actually, though it wasn't in a carnal capacity as her female companions had. There was certainly some attraction there, it would be patently absurd to claim Donovan wasn't attractive, it just wasn't lustful. Monda was simply curious about men. All of the men she knew were, well, old, and she was expected to find someone worthy of being her husband in the next few years, so it was time to put some serious thought into the type of man she wanted to live her happily ever after with. Donovan just happened to be the nearest male in her age bracket, and his relationship with not one but two women could probably give her some insights into her own preferences.

The fact she'd spent most of that time lost analyzing basically every drop of sweat that ran down his muscular abdomen was purely a result of her needing to focus on something that wouldn't come off as lecherous, yes, that was it. Her intentions were pure . . . pure . . . pure . . . 

Yeah, they were anything but. It did not take long for her to cover her face with her hands and let out a groan, admitting that her baser instincts won out over the composed and chaste persona so much time and effort had been invested in presenting. In fairness to herself, what was she supposed to do? Up to this point she'd been completely isolated from such tempting forms, the closest she'd come to a potential partner being her incredibly brief interactions with Trebar and Gawan - both of which were off the table. She was like a starving prisoner suddenly presented with a juicy steak cooked to perfection - it might have been beyond the bars of her cell, but she could still see, smell, and yearn for it.

Slapping then pinching her cheeks, Monda admonished herself for harboring such thoughts. She was the Archbishop of Chastity, not some homewrecking hussy - the High Council would never approve such a marriage in the first place!

Her thoughts were interrupted by the halting of the car, more specifically where it had done so. This was not the front of her home, nor was it the parliament or council building, in fact she could not recall what purpose this building served, or if she had ever visited it before.

"Um, where are we?" Monda dared not step out in her current outfit. A simple sundress covering an otherwise quite risqué (by her standards) bathing suit did not constitute acceptable clothing for official duties, particularly when she had forgone proper shoes.

"A customs house, your holiness."

"A customs house?" If she remembered correctly, this is where interplanetary commerce inspections and fee issuances were performed. "Why are we here?"

"All I was told is that there was something for you to do here, and to bring you once your time at the beach had come to a close."

"But, my clothes-" The words 'are wet' were about to leave her mouth, but they weren't even damp at this point. The only questionable aspect was a smidge of discoloration from shaved ice that had fallen onto it, however it was almost the same color as the floral patterns so it didn't stick out that much.

"The Archbishops were aware you had taken a break today. I am sure this message was relayed to those inside."

". . . very well." Exiting the vehicle with as much grace as she could muster, Monda took a second to pat off what little sand still clung to her calves. This was official business now, she needed to appear professional.

- - - - -

"Good evening, your holiness." Monda was greeted by a smiling door attendant the moment she walked through the door, a middle aged woman wearing a neat outfit perhaps a tad too form fitting for a professional setting. "Please, follow me."

"Oh, yes." The attendant wasted no time guiding her beyond the front counter and into the hallway beyond. The clicking of heels and slapping of sandals echoed off the walls as they passed many an empty office. A few remained in use, people kept on station to handle arrivals during odd hours or handle more unique cases, but the port would not have received a cargo galley for the past hour or so. "Might I ask why I'm here?"

"Hm? Were you not aware?"

"Aware of what?"

"That the Archbishop of Chastity receives diplomatic assignments from custom houses or similar mail facilities." The attendant spoke as if this was common knowledge, but Monda had never heard this information before. "Assignments are generally in the form of letters, given dates and orders of priority, and sent out en masse. It can be hard to track where you are on particularly long assignments beyond the range of the radio, so letters are often sent in advance of your planned route to a plethora of planets you may end up visiting. Do make a habit of visiting such establishments in the future."

"Oh, um, of course." The gears started turning in her head. "So . . . does that mean I have been given an assignment?"

"Of course you have." Her guide motioned her to wait at the door as she dipped into one of the rooms and rifled through a mess of folders. "Ah, here you are."

She accepted the envelope, purple paper with a green wax seal, and peeled it open. 

"This message addressed for Archbishopess of  Chastity, Monda of Upper Berkefel  - 

Assignment; Diplomatic - Effective at earliest convenience.

You are to enroll in and attend the Sanctum's Academy alongside your primary diplomatic concern - hereafter referred to as 'the Terrans' - and receive tutelage from the Montaug for a period of at least four years.

Primary objective: foster a positive and lasting relationship with the Terrans, preferably that of equals.

Secondary objectives: Receive formal education and training from the Montaug and his staff, attend diplomatic functions as a representative of the Theocracy, greet the Arboreal Maiden, act as participant and counsel to schemes manifested by the Terrans.

Tertiary objectives: Establish yourself in high society - build connections with individuals you deem friendly (beware the unwanted entanglements), search for possible suitors - future planning suggests foreign noblemen acceptable if necessary, assist Terrans in requisitioning support from third parties.

Quaternary objective: Enjoy yourself.

Best wishes - The High Council and Council of Diplomatic Strategy"