“I knew you’d like it. The concept is an old one, but we’ve just gotten the manufacturing process down to an affordable level. Not easy without Higher replicators.”
“I’d like to have the Colwyn City franchise.”
He responded with a warm, admiring smile. “See, most developers would have made a crack about me putting them out of business. But you see how to adapt and move onward. That’s what makes you stand out.”
“Thank you.”
Clemance scampered over to a new door. “Catch you later.”
Likan waved dismissively as he led Araminta over to the transparent wall. “Drink? Food?” he asked.
“I’m good for a few hours.”
“Good. The Prime Minister and two cabinet ministers are coming for dinner.”
“Are you trying to impress me?”
“They were coming anyway. But it gives you an idea of the life I lead. To get this big you have to delve into politics.”
“Colwyn City Hall can be a beast about issuing permits.”
“Take the development officer for dinner. Loan your local councillor a high-end capsule. They’re all in it for what they can get. Wouldn’t be feeding from the public trough otherwise.”
“Unless they’re in it to clean up the corruption.”
“Yeah. Those ones are a problem. Fortunately, they don’t tend to last long.”
“You’re a cynic.”
“Pragmatist, if you don’t mind. I’m also a lot more experienced than you in every field. So trust me when I say politicians all have their weaknesses.”
“What’s yours?” she teased.
“One, I’m an easy lay. But you already know that. Two: risk. Risk is my weakness. The sensation when a risk pays off is like nothing else. I always take the risk. I enjoy the reward too much not to.”
“So what risk are you taking right now?”
“You’re smart; you’ve researched me. The finance files, at least. Tell me.”
“I accessed some background on my way over. Opinion is you’re dangerously overextended.”
“And those loans have grown significantly in the last couple of years. So why do you think that is?”
“You’re going to wipe out property companies with houses like this one? Flood the market.”
He grinned. “Small scale. I think big. Besides, it’ll take a decade for something like this to become fashionable and then generally accepted. Think. What’s the most pressing problem Viotia has today?”
“Living Dream?”
“Kind of. Ellezelin is always looming over us. Rightly so. The Free Trade Zone is a massive market; it’s not going away, and it’s always growing. Anyone already operating in it has a huge financial and production capacity advantage over some poor little Viotia company. The worry is that when they eventually open a wormhole here, all our companies will lose out to cheap imports. Trade will be one-way.”
Her mind went back to Albany, to the sheer scale of the place. “You’re going to undercut them.”
“Albany is as automated as anyone can be without replicators. I’ve spent a decade investing in the most advanced cybernated systems we can have to drive production costs down. To do that, to push each unit cost as low as it can physically go, you have to have massive volume production. That’s what’s killing me at the moment. The factories are barely ticking over. But when that wormhole finally opens …”
“It’s not going to be the financial massacre they expect.”
“They import. I export. But the quantity of those exports will be ten times greater than they assume.”
“You’d need a distribution network.”
His smile was triumphant as he turned to face the lake. “Certainly would.”
“Wow,” she said, and meant it. Likan’s ambition was so great, hers wouldn’t even register on the same scale. “Why tell me? You can’t be trying to impress me into bed. You’ve already got that.”
“Although I have an egotistical opinion of my own ability, I can’t actually manage every aspect by myself, even with an augmented mentality. Too many details. For an expansion phase on this level, I need people I can trust in senior management positions, especially offworld.”
“That’s very flattering.”
“Yes and no. You’d be capable management, I think; you have the right kind of drive and mind-set. You don’t have the experience to be top rank, but that will come.”
She frowned. “Why me?”
“How much research did you really do? On Sheldon himself?”
“None,” she admitted. “Just what I picked up in school.”
“The old dynasties were just that: family enterprises. The surest way humans have ever come up with to retain loyalty and control. Nigel used his own flesh and blood.”
“Ah.” It was as if the room suddenly was on the move: downward.
“All the senior positions were held by his own children,” Likan said. “That’s also what I do.”
A memory abruptly rushed to the forefront of her mind. “Debbina?” she said before she could stop it.
Likan actually winced. “What did I ever do to you? No, okay, not my beloved little girl. But a lot of my other children are running sections of my company.”
“And how do I fit into this?”
“How do you think?”
“Spell it out for me.”
“You become one of my wives. You have my children. They take their place in the company.”
“You really know how to romance a girl.”
He flashed her a wry smile. “Come on, we’re grown-ups. Every marriage today is half business. We’ll have a great time in bed. I can afford any lifestyle you want. Your children will grow up being part of the most dynamic company in this section of the Commonwealth. They’ll never want for anything, and they’ll be presented with virtually unlimited challenges. I know you well enough to know that appeals. Who wants trust fund brats, right? And the same goes for you. Stick with me for ten, fifteen years, then you can either continue with a post in the company, or you cut loose with a huge chunk of money and enough insider knowledge to run circles around everyone else.”
“Ozzie’s mother! Are you serious?”
“Perfectly.”
“It’s very flattering, but isn’t it a bit sudden?”
“You think Sheldon hesitated when he saw something he wanted? No way. He went out and got it. And this isn’t quite that sudden, now, is it? We had a connection back at my symposium; you’re not going to deny that, are you?”
“No,” she admitted.
“So. There’s physical attraction, which just leaves your abilities. I did some research.”
“Your fifth assistant’s coffee boy did some research.”
“Indeed,” he acknowledged wryly. “You’re the original kid from nowhere. Rejects the cozy family business route. Looking to get out. Failed marriage. Now on the bounce-back curve. You’re hungry. And capable. With the experience my organization can provide, you’ll flourish.” He sidled up close and put his arm around her, kissing her again, more gently this time. “I don’t want an answer this instant. This is why you’re here. Experience everything you can and you want, then take your time and decide.”
Araminta did not wear her own clothes to dinner. That was the first thing she learned about what membership in the harem would be like. A stylist called Helenna was waiting in her bedroom when it collected her from Likan’s airy office. She was a jovial woman, close to rejuvenation, whose age meant she had piled on a lot of weight in recent years. Genuinely friendly, she was keen to confide household gossip, most of which made no sense to Araminta, although there was a lot of it. She had been with Likan for fifty years. “So I know it all, honey, seen even more. I don’t judge anyone, and nothing you do here is going to surprise me. You want anything special for tonight, you just ask me for it.” Araminta was not sure what counted as special. It was tempting to ask what other girls had requested. One thing Helenna was sure of was that “Likan likes his women ele
gant. So we’ve got to get you spruced up, ready to stand your own ground against the others.”
That took hours. Her bedroom bounded all over the ovoid house to link up with various specialist rooms, the sauna to start with, to clear her pores. There was a massage by a man called Nifran, who was as brutal as he was skillful; afterward she sort of poured herself off the table with loose floppy limbs. Then there was the fitting room—A house that has a fitting room?—where she was measured for her evening dress.
She spiraled dawn to the salon, where Helenna finally was exposed as a sorceress. Layers of cosmetic membrane were applied, yet when Araminta looked in the mirror there was no sign of them. Instead, her nineteen-year-old self looked back at her. It was a nineteen that she’d never known but always wanted, with sharp cheekbones, absolutely no excess flesh, soft long eyelashes, perfectly clear skin, and eyes that sparkled. Another hour saw her hair “repaired,” as Helenna disapprovingly termed the first procedure. Then it was extended, thickened, softened, waved, and styled.
Clemance had the chair next to her as it was being done, and another member of the harem, Alsena, took the other side. They chatted comfortably enough, providing an insight into the kind of sisterhood the women had. She was given a rundown of Likan’s genealogy with emphasis on the wayward children, a saga for which she needed to open a new file in a storage lacuna so that she could keep track of it.
For all their friendliness, the girls were not quite engaged with the real world. That was a pretty bitchy observation but one that Araminta felt applied. If Likan wanted women like her, what was he doing with the others? They certainly did not aspire to run sections of his corporate empire.
“He likes variety,” Helenna told her as the salon rendezvoused with the fitting room.
The classic little black dress had never fallen out of style, and looking at the one the fitting room’s apprentice sorceresses had conjured up for her, Araminta could see why. She felt randy just slipping into it, so Ozzie alone knew what effect it would have on any male who crossed her path. It clung disgracefully yet allowed her breasts complete freedom of movement. She blushed the first time she walked in it. Somehow the high hem and silk-gloss microfabric sprayed on her legs made her calves and thighs slim down to that same nineteen-year-old ideal Helenna’s spell had blessed her face with for the night.
Predinner cocktails were served to the household and Likan’s guests in the music room, which had claimed his office’s lake view. Araminta walked in with her head held high, knowing how great she looked. Likan’s double take, the smiles from the harem, and Clemance’s little bounce as she clapped her hands excitedly were simply the accolades she was due. It all helped buoy her confidence close to levels of arrogance. When Likan introduced her to the Prime Minister and her husband, she was perfectly civil and treated them as if they were almost her equals.
All the while, as she made small talk and sampled weird-tasting canapés, she kept wondering how Bovey would behave if he were there. He enjoyed his culture and could be as snobbish about food and wine as anyone. But the company she mingled with—the world’s powerful and wealthy and a few merely famous—she just couldn’t get away from the idea of how he would turn his nose up at them.
Yet here I am, holding my own.
The evening did have a downside. The Prime Minister’s husband, whom she was seated next to at the dinner table, was fantastically boring. Thankfully, Eridal, one of Likan’s older sons, sat on her other side. As smart and charming as Likan, he ran a finance house in Ludor, but he lacked that bullish determination that drove his father. She dutifully tried to not spend the whole evening chatting to him.
When it was all over, after the dining hall had descended to ground level so the guests could walk to their capsules, there was just Likan and eight of his harem left. The door contracted, and the walls resumed their sparkle; everyone gave a spontaneous laugh of release that Araminta joined in wholeheartedly.
Likan gave her a congratulatory kiss. “Damnit, I’d forgotten how awful that dickhead was,” he told her. “I wanted to smack him one, and he wasn’t even talking to me. Thanks for putting up with him.”
Doors were opening into various bedrooms around the dining hall. The harem was vanishing through them. Of all the women at the dinner, they were undeniably the most beautiful, most of them astonishingly so. Despite all Helenna’s efforts, Araminta could not help but feel like the poor relation in their presence.
“Go and get ready,” Likan told her. “We’ll be waiting.”
He turned and left through a door into a small darkened room. Araminta stared after him for a moment, then summoned her bedroom. That whole alpha male issuing orders thing just didn’t do it for her. For one, he didn’t have the charisma to pull it off, not with his dress sense and throwback physical appearance. On the other hand, to have accomplished so much was darkly compelling. She grinned at her own inner argument. What the hell; at least Clemance will be fun.
“Dress me the way he’ll enjoy,” she told the waiting Helenna. It was a process that turned out to be more elaborate than she had anticipated. For a start it involved Nifran again, who chided her about lack of proper exercise and how he could not relax her enough. What he did with her legs was virtually sex in itself.
Helenna applied some fabulously scented oil that acted in conjunction with Nifran’s pummeling to make her flesh glow.
“He’s not into sadism or anything, is he?” Araminta asked. The preparations were all very detailed. Her usual idea of getting ready for a hot night was to wear something a man could remove quickly.
“Not to worry, sweetie. He enjoys sex the way he enjoys his women: tasteful.”
Pondering that, Araminta allowed Helenna to dress her. The white negligee was mostly straps yet perversely managed to cover more of her body than the black dress had. She checked herself out in the mirror. So his idea of tasteful is a slut princess? How very male.
Her bedroom whisked her away to Likan’s boudoir—no other word for it; vast bed in the middle, naughty-shaped furniture, low rose-gold lighting. The harem was in attendance and, yes, dressed elegantly in silk and satin, with open gowns swirling, lounging on couches sipping champagne as they watched two of their number make love on the bed.
Araminta strolled in, trying not to appear too apprehensive. Likan greeted her, wearing a black robe. “Champagne?” he offered.
“Thank you.” She took a crystal flute from Marakata, who gave her a detailed appraisal. There was something alarmingly erotic about the way the aloof woman seemed able to look right through the negligee.
“You two should kiss,” Likan said.
Araminta pressed herself against the statuesque woman, enjoying the sensual touch. Marakata certainly knew how to kiss.
When they had finished, Araminta took a sip of the champagne as Likan took her hand and led her slowly over to the couch where Alsena was waiting. Araminta knelt down and began the kiss.
As she went on to kiss all the other women as he instructed, Araminta decided the experience was not so much tasteful as formulaic. Likan had ritualized his lovemaking. Finally she kissed him. After that she was taken over to the bed. There was a specific way of kneeling he wanted her to assume, very sex kittenish. One of the harem women helped arrange her hair decoratively over her shoulder.
Clemance removed Likan’s gown. Araminta stared at his huge erection.
“I have a gift for you.”
“Yes,” she said emphatically. “I see that.”
“A program.”
“Huh?”
“A mélange I’ve composed myself over several years. It allows you deeper access to your own mind, opening levels that verge on the subconscious in the way the old yogis achieved through meditation.”
“Right,” she said dubiously. Talk about killing the mood.
He smiled fondly and stroked her cheek. “I use it myself to focus. It helps clean your mind of extraneous thought. You can revert to the animal basics which form our core ident
ity.” His face came close to hers. “There are no inhibitions to be had in such a state. Whatever you pursue is unashamedly pure.”
“No inhibitions?”
“Clarity is a helpful tool for business. But also for lovemaking. You can concentrate on the sensations of your body to the exclusion of anything else. It helps amplify even the smallest nerve signal.”
“You mean I can make a climax stronger?” It sounded like an electronic version of the sex aerosols she and Bovey used.
“Yes. There are also adapted biofeedback routines which can influence your physical self. Once you determine the origin of your body’s pleasure, you can repeat it.” His voice became softer, tempting. “As many times as you have the physical strength for.”
Her u-shadow told her he was offering the program. Suddenly, she was feeling very hot in the negligee. “Scan it for infiltrators and trojans,” she told her u-shadow as she held his level gaze.
“It’s clean.”
“Load and run.” Through her exovision she watched the program expand into one of her lacunae. It had many similarities with a learning program, and she allowed it to mushroom into her gray matter. Instinctive knowledge bubbled away in her mind.
“Don’t be afraid,” Likan said softly. “I’ll use it with you. It will make our first time spectacular.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Now that she considered it, clearing her mind was a simple process, following the rising sleep cycles yet never accepting them. Her breathing steadied, and she grew aware of the body’s rhythms, the flow of nervous energy, heart-beat. Peripheral thoughts fell away, allowing her to center herself in the boudoir, on the bed. Her awareness grew of the light touch of fabric against her skin. Tiny beads of perspiration clung to her. She heard the sound of bubbles fizzing in the crystal flutes, Likan’s breathing. She saw his arm move out, a finger beckon.
Marakata answered the summons, sliding sinuously over the mattress. Her fingers stroked Araminta’s skin. The sensations her nerves experienced flowed like a tidal wave into her brain. She gasped at the impact and pulled her attention to the sensations that were most pleasurable, wallowing in them.
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 55