Poly sat up, faced me, and pulled on my far shoulder so I faced her. I could sense that I was missing something obvious.
“Let me put this in small words and walk you through the details step by step,” said my partner.
“Okay.”
“Cornell’s out and we don’t know when, or if, he’s coming back.”
“Ye-es,” I said, stretching out the single syllable into at least two.
“And everything is cool now with the formerly kidnapped big wigs, right?”
“Not really,” I said. “There’s a lot of logistical work needed to identify and deprogram another couple of hundred CEOs.”
“But Marty has that in hand. You don’t have to worry about it.”
I thought for a few seconds. Martha Kent was qualified and competent. Moving forward, treating the bigwigs was not my circus, not my monkeys.
“Okay,” I said again.
“Terrhi’s reunited with her parents and they all seem back to normal, correct?”
“Yes,” I said, “or as normal as Tomáso and Queen Sherrhi ever are.”
Poly was looking at me like I was an especially dim school child.
“Shepherd will keep an eye on them, right?”
“Uh huh,” I said, not sure where Poly was going.
“And Nettie, Lizzie and A.J. can keep track of their parents and George.”
“Ye-e-es,” I said, drawing the word out to an uncertain three syllables this time.
“So I can think of a much better way to spend the next few hours, while we wait to see what Cornell does, than sitting in an uncomfortable autocab…”
“Like getting an early dinner?” I said, still puzzled.
Sitting in an autocab alone with Poly didn’t seem that bad to me.
“No, you obtuse idiot,” said Poly, “like going back to our suite and making love.”
I think it was the look of sheer joy on my face that redeemed me from my previous neutron star-level density. Poly let me give the order to our autocab.
“The Grand Pyridian, and step on it.”
* * * * *
The elevator ride passed without me thinking about limericks. The door to our suite opened, closed, and was thoroughly locked, chained, and dead-bolted without my brain forming any conscious memories of doing so. My phone exercised both initiative and judgment and held my calls. I might have given it permission to alert me if an asteroid the size of Texas was due to strike Earth in the next couple of hours, but maybe not.
The curtains were open, but the windows of our suite were polarized in privacy mode, allowing light in, but not out. Sunbeams scattered around the room and across our king-sized bed. They warmed the place to a perfect temperature to be naked. Poly and I were standing at the foot of the bed, holding each other so tightly that our pupa silk shirts were shifting into their rigid defensive mode. We were clearly wearing too many clothes.
I tried to take a step back from her, but the lanyards of our GALTEX badges had intertwined, keeping us only inches apart. Our hands touched and fumbled together as we untwisted the cords and pulled the badges over our heads. Poly tossed her badge over her shoulder so it fell who knows where and I did the same to mine.
Now I could try putting Poly at arms’ length again. Still keeping my hands on her shoulders, I stepped back and took in every inch of her amazing self, from the soles of her shoes to the top of her auburn hair-crowned head. Her eyes were looking back at mine and it seemed like she was taking me in as well. We both looked at each other like kids in a candy store or cats staring at a bowl of cream or whatever—my forebrain no longer had enough focus available to summon up more clichés.
My right hand caressed Poly’s cheek, then slowly slid down her neck until it found the middle button on her white Xenotech Support polo shirt and unfastened it. My hand continued farther down with strategic stops until it found the button on the front of her khakis and repeated the process. Poly was breathing faster and so was I.
I moved two fingers inside the waistband of her pants and pulled the cotton fabric of her shirt up and over her head, throwing it at a careless angle. Poly unbuttoned my polo shirt, unbuckled my belt, and removed my shirt, sending it flying in an arc toward the far side of the room. Our pupa silk shirts, no longer rigid, described similar parabolas.
I pulled Poly closer and put my arms around her, fumbling at the clasp of her bra. She stepped back, smiled at me, and reached behind her back, unhooking the garment and letting it fall with a graceful shrug. We’d been naked together in the shower only a few hours ago, but every time I saw Poly unclothed I marveled at the beauty of the human form. In this case, I was also quite taken by Poly’s particular form. I traced her sides and hips with my palms.
“Mmmm…” said Poly. “That’s nice. But we’re still wearing too many clothes.”
“Easily remedied,” I said, leaning to push the waistband of her pants past her hips. Gravity helped handle the next part as her khakis fell to her ankles. Poly stepped out of them, kicking off her shoes in the process.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look really cute wearing socks—and almost nothing else?” I asked.
“I’m also wearing a smile,” said Poly, “and panties—with naughty mottoes printed on them.”
“From the Maureen Johnson Smith Long collection?” I asked, referring to one of our favorite Heinlein heroines.
“Uh huh,” said Poly. “There’s a catalog and everything.”
“We can look through it later.”
“Or now, if you’d like.”
“Later,” I said.
Both of us were grinning.
“You’re way overdressed,” said Poly.
“Going to do something about that?” I said, pushing my athletic shoes off with their laces still tied.
Poly tugged my pants down and steadied me when I overbalanced stepping out of them.
I almost fell on the bed, not that that would have been a bad thing. We were both in socks and underwear. Mine was getting more than a little tight. Poly looked as scrumptious as an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top—make that two cherries.
Like two powerful magnets with north and south poles facing, Poly and I felt drawn to each other by invisible lines of attractive force. We were in each other’s arms, pressing our bodies together and reveling in our own internal heat that felt twice as good as the sunbeams crisscrossing the room. Socks and underwear teleported on various vectors around the bedroom without benefit of congruent technology, as our vertical kisses worked their way up the stellar classification system from warm Type M to hot Type O.
At some point, Poly’s foot ended up behind my ankle and the two of us fell on the bed, shifting our orientation to horizontal. We spent the next two hours getting to know each other physically, mentally, and emotionally, with the conversations between our bodies’ connections being almost as pleasurable as the sex.
I realized that time had passed only because sunlight was no longer coming in our windows.
We could worry about Cornell and Sally in the morning.
Chapter 42
“All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast.”
— John Gunther
Last night had been amazing. Afterward, I’d never slept better in my life. Endorphins and distilled happiness are a delightful cocktail and I was still feeling the emotional high from the experience. I was full of energy and would have been glad to pick up where Poly and I had left off, except for the sad fact that I was alone in our king-sized bed.
“Are you okay?” I said, raising my voice so it would carry.
“Just taking care of necessities,” said Poly from the bathroom, her voice echoing on the tile.
“Coming back to bed?”
“Will you make it worth my while?”
/>
“Count on it, beautiful!”
“You’ll have to feed me, first,” she said. “I’m feeling like a hobbit who’s skipped second breakfast.”
“What would you like me to order?”
“Surprise me,” said Poly.
I slid out from under the covers and padded around in my bare feet and bare everything else, for that matter, to use the bathroom in one of the suite’s other bedrooms. That critical task completed, I found my phone on the floor at the foot of the king-sized bed, underneath my pants.
“Please call room service,” I said.
“You have an urgent message from…”
“Later,” I said. “Get me two orders of fresh strawberries with whipped cream, Orishen orange scones, a dozen slices of Canadian bacon, and four poached eggs.”
“Fifteen minutes,” said my phone. “Jack…”
“It can wait,” I said.
“But…”
“And see if they have any Dauushan caviar.”
I thought that might make Poly smile, remembering our first date.
“Not available,” said my phone, sounding testy.
“What?” I said.
I was so happy I wanted everybody—even my electronic associates—to be happy, too.
“Mike Goodman called. He says you need to call him back right away—it’s urgent.”
“When did he call?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“What time is it now?”
“Eight-thirty.”
“How long was I asleep?”
My phone paused before answering.
“You were in bed from five-fifteen yesterday afternoon until eight-thirty this morning.”
Its non-specific answer was a very delicate way of telling me it hadn’t been closely observing what Poly and I had been doing. That was yet another example of its good judgment. My phone was on a roll. I was glad it hadn’t tried to wake me. Whatever Mike had to share couldn’t be that terrible, could it?
“Thanks,” I said. “Any other news?”
“Cornell returned home shortly after he’d left, arriving at five on the dot.”
When Poly and I had been otherwise occupied.
“Was anyone with him?”
“Not that any local cameras could see,” said my phone.
“Is there any way to get an overhead view of the neighborhood?” I asked.
A bird’s eye view would be useful to help us scope out the territory before we showed up on Cornell and Sally’s doorstep.
“Nothing real time, but a tourist blimp heading to Death Valley has footage from yesterday afternoon.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “Let’s see it.”
My phone’s screen filled with aerial images of large homes on larger lots, tucked into narrow patches of unnaturally green irrigated grass that must be the golf course. It seemed to be a family-oriented neighborhood, not just an enclave for pretentious DINKs—that’s Double Incomes, No Kids. There were swing sets in plenty of the back yards and intricate ribbons of paved trails weaving behind the properties, suitable for children’s bicycles, or more likely, grownups’ golf carts.
“Everything okay?” came Poly’s voice from the master bathroom.
“Fine,” I said. “Food should be here soon.”
“So long as it’s here before I faint away from hunger,” she said. “I got a lot of exercise last night.”
“You mean I wore you out?”
“Not at all,” said Poly, her voice no longer echoing. She was sitting on the edge of the bed admiring my lack of outfit.
I joined her, with my phone in my hand, and showed her the overhead images of Cornell and Sally’s neighborhood.
“I’m surprised the community isn’t gated,” she said.
“There are cameras everywhere,” said my phone. “And frequent private police patrols in cars and golf carts.”
“That makes sense,” I said. “Gates can give you a false sense of security.”
“Do you think we’ll have any trouble with the patrols when we make our move?” asked Poly.
“Camera glitches can happen at any time,” said my phone. “So can distractions.”
It played a computer generated video of two women and a man in ski masks attempting to break into a large home through a side door.
“That should keep the private police types occupied,” I said. “Good plan.”
A light on the upper front of my phone flashed a cheerful green two or three times. That was new, and I liked it. It was more subtle than drawing a smiley face on its screen.
“Did I hear Mike’s name?” asked Poly.
“He called around seven,” I said. “It’s supposed to be something urgent.”
“So call him back,” said Poly. “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t want to leave my happy place and hear bad news.”
“If it is bad,” said Poly. “Maybe we landed a big new client or something?”
“I doubt it.”
“Please call Mike back,” Poly requested.
I did and Mike answered.
“Jack?”
“And Poly,” she said. “You’re on speaker.”
“Thank goodness,” said Mike. “Something terrible has happened.”
“What?” I said, my bubble of happiness popping like the cork on a bottle of cheap champagne.
“We’re being sued.”
Poly didn’t overreact. She stayed calm and focused. I love her so much for so many reasons.
“Tell us the details, please,” she said.
“It’s Factor-E-Flor,” said Mike, “or really, their insurance company. They’re suing us for damages to their building.”
“Is that all,” I said, feeling relieved. “That’s why I’ve got a multi-million galcred general liability policy.”
“And they’re suing Poly’s sister, since she’s the one who set off the pipe bomb.”
“It was a Macerator unit’s power pack, not a pipe bomb,” said Poly. “And it was Factor-E-Flor’s own fault for not shutting off their gas service after switching their building to congruent power.”
Now Poly was losing her cool. I’d be the same way if someone was suing my sister. If I had a sister. Family is important. It was my turn to calm things down.
“Does Pomy have any insurance?” I asked.
“She’s a poor graduate student,” said Poly. “What do you think?”
“If she doesn’t have any assets, they’re not likely to go after her,” I said.
“No,” said Poly. “They’ll go after deeper pockets—my mom and Keen Publishing.”
“Oh,” I said, as the implications set in.
“What’s the name of the insurance company?”
“Maine Havana,” said Mike.
Remember the Maine, I thought. The battleship USS Maine blew up in Havana’s harbor in 1898 under dubious circumstances, triggering the Spanish-American War.
“Who owns Maine Havana?” I asked my phone.
“EUA Corporation?” offered Poly, frowning.
“Correct,” said my phone. “Companies with names related to famous American people or triumphs, like Maine Havana, Chapultepec & Castle, and the James K. Polk group, were organically developed directly by EUA. Firms with names that don’t fit that model, like Verne Wells & Company, were acquisitions, unless EUA changed their names after the fact.”
“Good to know,” I said.
“We’ve got to get back to Atlanta right away,” said Poly. “I’ve got to help my sister.”
I put my free hand on Poly’s arm and tried to comfort her.
“I don’t think we need to drop everything immediately and head back eas
t,” I said. “The wheels of justice move slowly, but grind exceedingly fine. We have time to figure this out and fight it. Your mom’s lawyers can help, too.”
“I still want to be back home yesterday.”
“Will you settle for tomorrow? Or really late tonight?” I asked. “I’m sure there’s a red eye flight.”
“I guess that will work,” said Poly. “I’ll give Pomy a call and let her know the cavalry’s coming.”
“I wouldn’t phrase it that way,” I said. “Pomy’s her own woman and the two of you have just started speaking again.”
Poly leaned over and kissed me.
“Thanks, Jack,” she said. “That’s good advice. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Is everything okay out there?” asked Mike.
“Fine,” I said. “Sorry to be distracted.”
“But not too sorry,” said Mike. “I hope you two are having a good time.”
“We’ll tell you all about it when we get back,” I said. “Let’s just say it’s been interesting.”
“Interesting sounds interesting. I’ll wait for details,” said Mike. “Safe travels. Let me know when you’re coming in and I’ll send your van to pick you up.”
“Right,” I said. “Thanks, and let me do the worrying.”
“It’s all yours, my friend,” said Mike, ending the call.
“Please get Pomy for me,” said Poly.
“Connecting,” said my phone. “Pomy’s phone says she’s teaching a seminar at present and will not be available for three and a half hours.”
“Drat,” said Poly. “Send her a text message and let her know I’ve got her back if she needs any help.”
“Much better,” I said.
“It is unclear whether or not Pomy has received notice of the suit,” said my phone. “If the papers were delivered to her home, not her office at the Carlos Museum, or even to her previous mailing address in Rome, there’s a high probability she has not yet received them. Your current message might be misconstrued without the context of the lawsuit.”
Xenotech What Happens: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 3) Page 34