The cosmic copulations of the dragonfly woman.
Act I of an erotic tale featuring an android woman from Alpha.



femme androïde

Our intelligence holds in the intelligible reality
the same rank as our body in the extends of nature.
Pascal, Pensées, II, 72.

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lune

The night is magnificent. Laying into the ground, the sky above our heads offers a seizing spectacle on this hot summer night, on the shores of the gulf of Akaba. The stars, the planets, the omnipresent moon and all these mysterious heavenly objects draw the sky in an ungripping mosaic.

Sarah is snuggled up to me. We are laying on the sand still full of energy accumulated after a long and hot day of intense heat; we are laying on our backs, naked and overlapping one into the other. Over-exhilarated as if we where going to make love. Sated as if we had just made love.

We fed ourselves of always childish games, the nervous escapes of Sarah over the dune, my vain attempts to seduce her, we seem satisfied but we never truly made love. Sarah refused this ultimate sacrifice at the very last moment, before reaching the peak of sexual stimulation, she suddenly regain consciousness and seemed to want to preserve herself for an other moment or for somebody else. I could not believe she was still a virgin and yet my most subtle approaches could not succeed up to now to conquer her inexpugnable yoni. I could penetrate her, make her have an orgasm, bring her to the limit of unconsciousness without never depose my seed to the bottom of her vulva.

We loved each other, she undoubtedly liked me but this love was never consumed. This time still, my seed sprayed on her thighs, in the endless sands of the beach.

We stayed there motionless, facing the spectacle of the night looking at the starry sky, silent, we did not say any word. We where well as if we had made love. The lights of Akaba sparkled near by, at a short walking distance and even so very far away, separated by insurmountable barbed wires, indolent soldiers, armed batteries. I spent the night at this other site on the Arab side, some days ago, resting into one of the caravans used as studios for the production of "Lawrence of Arabia" filmed in the desert near by. I was then looking at the lights of Eilat, attracting like little girls in sexual trance.

lune

The moon was there, in full moon, almost at the level of the horizon, large and omnipresent as an undisturbed lamppost.

We exchange words over the immensity of the Cosmos. I pass on to her all my wondering and my intellectual inability to grasp the extend of this Universe, the unfathomable Universe, the theories of the creation of the Universe, the smallness of man in front of these phenomena.

She talks to me of these other worlds that undoubtedly populated the Universe. These strange beings that visits us, the extraterrestrial, the flying-saucers, friends of her who have seen them, she describes them, those Frisbees with flashing red lights, banal machines come out of the imagination of too naive individuals.
éclipse

I talk to her of my skepticism not on the hypothetical presence of other intelligent worlds in the Universe but on the improbable coincidence of an encounter with one of these worlds. All this question being more related with philosophical than scientific matters, the effective appearance of more or less human individuals in strange flying vehicles seem to me a philosophical incongruity and a mathematical impossibility.

Sarah looked skeptical. She was amazed by my consideration but she thought they where too abstract, and not romantic enough to her taste. She prefers the shivers that accompanied the legendary tales listen to during those long and annoying evenings with her comrades of the Kibbutzim.

Sarah was Jewish. I met Sarah in a Kibbutz near Beersheba. I was passing by in my way to Eilat. The kibbutz was full of young refugees from Europe and America in search of a mystical "trip": Jews, or young Westerners who had deviated from the road to Katmandu, they lived in community always keeping churning out the same certainties. Sarah rapidly hooked on me, I had no attachment, I belong to no tribe, I was for her the adventurer who will take her momentarily out of this carceral universe of the kibbutzim, she followed me.

We traveled together through the Negev, defying the nightly incursions of the Feddayins, we float over the saline waters of the dead sea, climb up the cliffs of Massada, we ended up to Eilat, this seaside resort infested with looters. I discovered her torrid body of beautiful and mysterious north-African girl, she ignored no one of the secrecie's of my own body. We spent days of a total freedom as a new Adam and a new Eve, on the devastated lands of the Garden of Eden. Adam et Ève



Marco Polo or the imaginary journey (translated from Contes et légendes, november 1998) © 1998 Jean-Pierre Lapointe
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ACTE II