The Dirtiest Daddy's Taboo

by Alina Nicholson

  "I'll be right behind you," she told Lenoir. He nodded and fumbled with his camera - was that nerves? Surely not! - then stepped cautiously through the narrow gash. Mary followed, the bright lights of the hall changing abruptly to damp, hot darkness. She gulped in air and blinked hard, fumbling for her torch. The floor gave slightly beneath her feet and felt like dense sponge.

  "It's like a sauna in here," she said, and flicked the torch on. The beam showed more of the same oil-slick surfaces: walls, floors, ceilings, with openings in all three. "Do you think we should get some proper lighting in here?"

  "That'll take time," said Lenoir, torch in hand. "I'd like to get an initial impression of the atmosphere in here. Whoever... whatever lives in this environment must thrive on heat."

  "Don't jump to conclusions too quickly," she corrected him, but gently. "When it's active, it could have a cooling system, for all we know. Remember that there were no lifeforms found on recovery. It might be a drone, or it might have a sentience all its own."

  There was a silence in which she feared she had overstepped. The air seemed even more oppressive than before. "You're right," he said at last. She could only see his profile, stern and focussed.

  "There'll be time for hypothesising later. Let's take a room each," she suggested hastily.

  "Stay within hailing distance," was all his reply as he walked through the opening to his right. Mary took the one across the way.

  There was no real danger, she thought - the scans had confirmed that there was nothing to threaten them - but still, something made her glad that there was someone just a shout away. She supposed that it must be the sheer weirdness of the place, and pushed the feeling to one side. Her first duty was to see if her comms unit could breach the hull, although the exterior survey had indicate that it might not. It didn't, so she left the ship briefly to assure the scientists that they would check in at half-hour intervals to upload their data to the lab.

  "What's it like in there?" asked Perry, his voice echoing around the large space.

  "Hot and dank. Not pleasant."

  "Next time, wear less," he advised with a grin she could hear as well as see.

  Back inside, she got to work. Photographs, detailed scans of surfaces and interesting features, and note-taking were the main tasks to be dealt with. The space was disappointingly uniform. There seemed to be no interesting features, no controls or systems or anything that was conventionally found in a ship. The room was all smooth curves with rounded doorways of differing sizes and shapes: quinessentially organic design. She had to remind herself that the data collected with the handscanner might eventually reveal something much more interesting, but it was a trial to keep going, especially given the conditions and the semi-darkness. Soon she felt like she was burning up, despite the frequent trips outside. Sweat dampened her skin, and her braid felt like a hot weight down her back. Modesty be damned, she thought desperately. I'll faint if I don't get out of this jumpsuit.

  In the end she compromised and opened it to the waist, shrugging out of the top half and letting it hang around her hips. She also unzipped the underall to her breastbone and rolled up its sleeves. It wasn't as good as, say, a bikini would have felt, but it was an improvement. She thought about Lenoir and wondered if his rigid adherence to proper uniform would allow him to work in a state of undress. She hoped it would.

  In the seventh and last chamber, she found out. He was kneeling by a pile of his gear, taking notes intently. His jumpsuit was neatly folded under his camera and he had pulled his hair back with an elastic band. Mary sat down by the doorway - collapsed would have been more accurate - and fanned herself. They had been inside the ship for six hours.

  "This is unbearable," she gasped. "We need fans in here."

  "Yes," he said without looking up. Mary tried not to ogle his beautiful body, shown off so well by the blessed underall, but even when she looked aside she remembered clearly how the broad width of his shoulders tapered down to slim hips. She cleared her throat.

  "Do you need any help in here?"

  "I'm almost finished." He tapped and swiped the screen with the ease of long practice. "Just a couple of minutes."

  She closed her eyes and leant back against the wall. It wasn't slippery, but it did remind her a little of skin, and with its slight softness, it was comfortable. Perhaps that was why there was no furniture...

  "Brooks?" She opened her eyes to see Lenoir standing above her, looking down with a strange expression on his face.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I only closed my eyes for a minute."

  "You did," he said, his voice tight. She glanced down at herself and, with horrified embarrassment, saw that the treacherous zip of her underall had slid open, far past the point of decency. She wasn't quite falling out of it, but another deep breath and... it was too mortifying to even think about. Quickly she yanked the zip up and gathered her equipment, hoping that the half-light concealed her blushing face. They left the ship without another word.

  Mary elected not to change in the locker room, but shoved her gear into its proper place, grabbed her clothes, and hurried into the elevator. Lenoir was well able to tell the labrats about their findings. She couldn't stand another minute in his company. Everything seemed to go wrong when she was with him in that ship. It was bad luck, or something equally superstitious and ridiculous. As the doors began to close, she fantasized about the long, cool shower she would take the minute she got back to the apartment. Perhaps she'd use her favourite vanilla soap.

  Two large hands stopped the doors before they sealed, and slowly prised them open. Lenoir slid through, a bag in hand. He looked about as hot as she felt, in the bright light of the compartment. His hair was falling out of its ponytail, a few strands clinging to his face, and his skin gleamed. He was, she noted with secret delight, still wearing the underall and nothing else.

  "I've talked to the team about the lights and fans," he said, after performing the requisite identification with the AI. "Tomorrow should be more comfortable."

  "Thank you."

  "I... ah." That made her look at him. He never stumbled over words. "Don't feel embarrassed about earlier. There's no need."

  "Oh. Good." She felt out of her depth. Perry would have made a witty remark about her cleavage, easy to laugh off or put down, but this almost earnest concern was different. She thought he meant that he wasn't remotely interested and hadn't been looking at her lustfully. She probably should have been grateful. She wasn't. Thankfully the doors opened onto her floor a moment later, and she escaped into the sanctuary of her apartment without a backward glance.

  * * * * * * * *

  In the quiet darkness of the ship, something shifted.

  Chapter 3

  Although HQ had been terribly concerned about the working conditions - or so Sandra had said - no lights or fans materialised on the following morning. Mary had slept badly and the news didn't improve her sour mood. In silence she and Lenoir stripped down to the ubiquitous underalls, rolled up their sleeves, and prepared to continue with the internal survey.

  Lenoir seemed to sense her bad temper; he spoke little and chose to study the weapons damage in and around the entry room. She decided to work in the deepest chamber from the entrance, hoping to get the worst of the heat over with as early in the day as possible. In a perfunctory gesture, she swept the narrow beam of light over the featureless surfaces, then set up the 3D scanner to make a model. While it ran, she went outside to check in with the lab.

  "This is Brooks," she told the mike.

  "Morning, Mary," said Perry. "You okay in there?"

  "Yeah, just fine," she muttered, tugging her zip down to let the cool air in. "See if you can get HQ to put a rush on those fans, would you?"

  "Will do. You should really consider a bikini."

  "In your dreams, idiot," she said, and broke the connection.

  "We could swap rooms, if you like," said Lenoir. Like the day before, he was right behind her and the sound of his soft deep voic
e made her both flinch and shiver. She faced him and smiled ruefully.

  "I'm complaining too much, aren't I? I'm fine where I am. Thanks for the offer."

  * * * * * * * *

  When she returned to the scanner, it was beeping to indicate that the sweep was finished, so she slid it into its well-padded case and picked up the camera. Thanking heaven that HQ didn't stint on the equipment budget, she flipped on the internal torch and looked around for something interesting to capture. It was all just the same, curved smoothness - no sign of controls, power lines or propulsion systems. All the same as before. She turned in a slow arc, gazing into the viewscreen to line up a good shot, and then stopped. It wasn't all the same. Something had changed, something that hadn't been there when she'd taken the 3D scan. There was a hole in the floor.

  It was over two feet in diameter, but some exploration with her torch showed it to be perhaps five feet deep, or a little more. Mary lowered herself into it and felt around for anything unusual. The walls around her were as smooth as the rest of the ship. Funny, she thought, it seemed bigger when I wasn't inside it. She began to climb out, and couldn't. What the hell? Her arms were stuck, and when she looked down, she saw with a jolt of terror that the pit had closed itself around her, molding itself to her form so that she was effectively buried up to the neck. Struggling did nothing. Her entire body was trapped in a warm cocoon. She forced herself to breathe slowly and calmly, although every instinct was tuned to fear and she felt panic rising in her throat. It's okay. It's okay. This might be how the pilot controls the ship.

  It was impossible to prevent a strangled gasp when she felt something hard press between her legs. "No," she whispered in amazed horror. It pressed again, exploring the recesses of her body slowly and carefully. It touched her inner thighs, her belly, her mons, and then unerringly began to slide up and down in small rhythmical movements, stroking the fabric over her clitoris firmly, pressing her buttocks back against their confining prison. Her brain emptied of rational thought. It was unbelievable, surely a dream sent to punish her for her inappropriate fantasies about Lenoir. A wave of bliss swept through her as she thought of him, of his gorgeous butt and muscular thighs... and she gave in completely to the sensations that were starting to course through her body.

  The stroking sped up. She groaned, and tried to push back, feeling wet heat moistening the crotch of the underall. It felt like large fingers were manipulating her, were coaxing this incredible pleasure from her while she was helpless to do anything. She imagined that the fingers belonged to Lenoir, that he was holding her down and caressing her slick folds with merciless concentration until she begged for more. Her nipples were achingly hard; she longed to rub them against something for relief, but couldn't. Being so powerless turned her on in a way that shocked her; similarly, being stimulated and aroused by an unknown being should have disgusted her, but her only thought was that she badly wanted - needed - to come. Mary rocked and squirmed as much as she was able, panting for breath as the protusion began to tremble and swirl in little circles over her nub. The vibration was too much. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out as she had one of the most intense orgasms of her life. It consumed her fully, making her body shake and her mind explode.

  Disgust and guilt were the first things to return along with her senses. The walls had relaxed back to their original position, allowing her to climb out. For a few minutes she lay still and quiet while her thoughts and reactions crowded her mind. Her naturally rational mind was already sorting through the recent event and reasoning through it, but she felt instinctively that she had to get away. After straightening her clothing, she gathered her things in trembling hands and went to the doorway.

  Lenoir was where she had left him. He was so engrossed in his notes that she almost managed to creep past unnoticed, but he looked up just as she reached the exit. She faltered at his intent, frowning gaze, yet made as if to keep going.

  "Mary, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked sharply.

  "I... it's too hot in there. I can't think. I have to go."

  "Are you unwell? Let me help you."

  "No!" she snapped. "I'm fine, I just need to lie down." She stepped out into the light.

  * * * * * * * *

  The wash did her good, as did changing into a loose robe and making a mug of strong tea. She put on some soothing music and curled into a chair to sip the hot drink and think calmly.

  It had been a shocking experience, but she was mistress of herself enough to admit that she had, on some level, enjoyed it - and that perhaps this fact was upsetting her most. She prided herself on her self-command, but had abandoned it in seconds, even with the knowledge that Lenoir could walk in at any moment. As a scientist she was full of questions, but the most pressing one was very simple: could she ever bring herself to tell anyone about what had happened? It was surely of prime importance, especially since it might indicate a dormant intelligence, and further attacks might follow.

  Had it been an attack, though? Mary was not sure. She had entered the hole of her own free will, and by doing so she might have triggered an automated sequence of events. The thought that the ship might be powered by the ecstacies of its inhabitants made her smile wryly and shake her head. Somehow it had known how to manipulate human physiology, but now was not the time for fancies. Cold, hard facts were required.

  She had finished her tea, and with it, her initial analysis of the situation. It was time to talk to Lenoir.

  * * * * * * * *

  The small office was empty save for scattered chairs and a table. Mary stood against one wall and studiously picked at the sleeve of her jacket. There was a sharp double knock.

  "Come in," she called, and Lenoir obeyed. "Close the door, please," she added, sitting down and avoiding his curious face.

  "Are you feeling better?"

  "Yes. Thank you. I need to tell you something."

  He sat opposite her and she met his eyes, mortification clawing at her as she realised how much harder this would be than she had anticipated.

  "Something happened in the ship. Something weird and embarrassing. Please don't say anything," she said, forestalling his reply, "because I just want to get this over with. I found a hole, a recess in the floor that I hadn't noticed before." She chewed on her lower lip, then spoke quickly. "It was about two point two five feet in diameter. I got in to examine it. It... closed on me, like it had molded to my body, and I couldn't get out. Then it... it touched me." Her face - no, her whole body - burned with shame. She slouched back into the seat, wishing she could just keep going and slide under the table.

  "Mary." He reached forward as if to take her hand and she instantly snatched it away.

  "It touched me between my legs and brought me to orgasm. Then it returned to its original state. I got out and left. That's what happened."

  There was a very long silence.

  "I don't want you to tell anyone else yet," she said, as an afterthought. "It's all true, though I know it sounds like the ravings of a lunatic, and I want corroborated proof before I embarrass myself in front of anyone else."

  "I agree," he said, leaning back. "I believe you, but it would be better to present a fully researched case, especially if we could leave your experience out." He was all cool professionalism, and it startled her.

  "I'm a little concerned about what may happen next," she admitted, feeling a little comforted by his immediate use of the word 'we'. "Perhaps I'm wrong and we should immediately inform HQ - perhaps we'd be endangering ourselves."

  "While I wouldn't want to hypothesize without your permission," he said, rather archly, "I don't think this was an act of aggression. You weren't injured, and you may have unwittingly begun an in-built process. We should study this recess closely."

  "What bothers me is that it has an intimate knowledge of human anatomy."

  "Well... perhaps you were scanned."

  "Then why is there no resulting data from our scans?" she demanded. "It should be dead. I think
we're in way over our heads."

  "I don't disagree. Still..."

  "... you want to study it further," she finished. He nodded. "Yes, well, so do I. Let's go back this afternoon and see if we can find an answer." Her determination made her voice strong, and although Lenoir looked sidelong at her, he said not a word to dissuade her.

  Chapter 4

  Much to Mary's relief, the hole was just where she had left it. A part of her had wondered whether it had all been a dream, a fantasy created by the heat and her admiration for Lenoir. But no, it was exactly where it ought to be. She knelt a few feet away and began to manually scan the surrounding floor. Lenoir was bolder, standing on the edge and shining his torch into the darkness.

  "It's featureless, like the rest of the ship," he said. "Is this how it was when you were here?"

  "Yes. Only when I got in did... did something happen," she said, pretending to be very interested in the data she wasn't collecting.

  "Are you getting anything?"

  "No. Just organic matter, like everything else we've seen."

  "Perhaps if we dropped something into it," he mused, rubbing his jaw with one hand.

  "I suppose it's worth trying," she said doubtfully. He took a spare jumpsuit from his equipment bag and unfolded it, then, holding it by the shoulders, dipped it into the hole.

  Nothing happened.

  "Damn it." Lenoir tossed the suit to one side. "Look, I'll just get in and see what happens."

  "No!" she gasped, but he was already lowering himself down, and she could do nothing but gaze in appalled silence.

  "It's fine, Mary," he told her, smiling. His expression changed suddenly. "Where's the door?"

  Mary whirled, torch in hand, and saw that he was right. There was nothing but bare wall wherever she looked. She touched the place where the doorway had been, but it was as if it had never existed. Panic rose in her throat to choke her, and then she heard a groan from Lenoir.