by Iris Astres
“And now he’s brought his wife for sex play at a brothel. Does that make sense to you?” Malcolm tried to tell himself this wasn’t the disaster he’d seen coming. For months he’d had a strong sense of foreboding. It wasn’t quite a vision, but the effect was just as real. The presentiment had him ever vigilant. Downstairs as much as possible—at the door or at the watch. Something bad was on its way to them. This, however, wasn’t the event he feared. He didn’t think so, anyway.
Raj touched the pad again. The screen went off. “Whether it makes sense or not,” he said, motioning his partner toward the door, “I think we’d best not keep them waiting.”
Chapter Three
Malcolm was the first to enter—the first to set his eyes on Solange Clay. They found her sitting on a marble bench beside an earthen teapot. She’d arranged a row of tiny cups around it, like soldiers standing guard around a fortress. The sight was somehow very lonely.
As they drew nearer, she got to her feet. On infoscreens her husband’s height always dwarfed her, so it came as some surprise to find her rather tall. Willowy would be the word. A mass of sand-colored curls framed her round face.
They advanced. Her gray eyes warmed in greeting. Malcolm bowed over her hand and caught the scent of wildflowers in the sun.
Suddenly he saw her as she should be—nude beneath a leafy arc of foliage. Marc and Olly should have brought her to the Bower. Eros, with its vastly empty marble walls, was much too cold for her. If he could, he’d take her to a garden and make love to her amid the smell of greenery and hothouse blooms.
However he could get her, Malcolm knew he wanted Solange Clay. And even if sexual wanting was a frequent state for men from Backus, the sensation always felt new. Surprising and intense.
Reluctantly he stepped aside for his accomplice. In keeping with Temple tradition, Raj sank to his knees, extending both his arms out as he slid, facedown, into a complete reverence at his intended lover’s feet. Solange watched the ancient act with sheer amazement, as though the man might conjure up a tiger for her. Delight transformed her features into an unguarded expression that was sweet enough to win the devil over.
Malcolm would be quite content to gaze at her for hours. Instead a sense of duty made him scan the room until the shadowy shape of Amin Clay emerged in a far corner. In the faint spill of light, only the man’s legs were clearly visible. Beyond that he saw nothing but the gleam of a half-empty bottle on the floor beside him.
“Hello.” Malcolm bowed toward the darkness.
No answer.
Raj slid back to his knees and rose from his reverence. It would have been exactly forty seconds. Temple Lovers were uncanny in their sense of time. He too stared briefly into the dark corner. Then he smiled at Solange.
She motioned both of them to sit. Raj angled another bench from the wall so each of them could see the other. She poured from her teapot into two more earthen cups. Wordlessly they accepted her offering and drank. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of water falling from the fountainhead into the bathing pool. Otherwise the vast marble room was eerily still.
On a slow, deep breath Solange peered into the darkened corner with a thoughtful look. “My husband’s unhappy,” she said. Her forehead scrunched with sympathy at that. For all of them, it seemed.
“He’s in a mood because some men broke in and tried to murder us.” At that her eyebrows lifted with surprise, the truth of her ordeal still settling in. “Amin heard them coming. He tried to make me leave, and now he’s mad because I wouldn’t go. But how could I go without him?” She shifted with what looked like genuine incomprehension. “I couldn’t. So I stayed. I didn’t think I’d be afraid. I’m not afraid of death or even pain. I really was convinced that I’d be brave. But when those men came in, I shook with fear.” Her gray eyes rose to theirs for understanding. Malcolm tried to give it, not precisely knowing why. Because she’d let a madman frighten her? That was a strange reason for guilt.
“The leader of the group was a repulsive man,” she said and frowned into her tea. “So full of hate. I don’t know why. I don’t know what he thinks I did. Or thought. But I’ll admit I let him scare me.”
“Did he assault you?” Raj asked softly. Somewhere in the darkness a bottle clinked against a glass.
Solange shook her head. “He didn’t have the time. After his tirade, he put one dirty hand on me and he was dead.” She shrugged. Malcolm felt relief at that. Raj too seemed to relax on the bench beside him. Solange cleared her throat and set down her cup. “Amin’s barely spoken to me since.” That fact was obviously painful. She bore it stoically, looking out at her surroundings. “He brought me here.”
“As punishment?” Raj asked.
“Not punishment.” Clearly she regretted the impression. “If anything, I think I’m here for fun. To learn the art of merry widowhood, in case Earth Firsters finally murder him one day and I’m alone forever.” Her head tilted as she gave a thoughtful look into the air around her. “Is that right, sweetheart?”
There was no answer. They all listened as the man in darkness reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass.
“In any case,” Solange said, her delicate features easing as she looked at them. “It’s not like I object to being here. I do love bad behavior, and you can’t do much that’s more depraved than meeting two Bods in a Body House. It’s my first time this close to one of you.” She gave her full attention to the both of them. “You’re so beautiful. I think it makes my heart beat fast just looking at you.” One small hand flattened against the creamy fabric of her sweater. Malcolm thought for one unpleasant moment of the other man’s hand there. The one who’d hated her and died. “Is it your appearance that has my pulse racing like that, or are you doing something else to me? I’m curious about Backusians, you know. I’d ask a dozen questions if I weren’t afraid to bore you.”
“It’s impossible for you to bore us.” Raj gave the right answer, but Malcolm noted that Solange Clay’s attention remained fixed on him, as though he had the final say in what was and wasn’t done.
“The first thing I would ask you is your names,” she said.
That was embarrassing. Malcolm’s obvious discomfort elicited a tiny laugh from her. He inclined his head and introduced himself. Raj said his name as always with a circular motion from his heart up to his lips.
“And I’m Solange.” She pressed her palms down on the bench, stretching out her back, while she surveyed the room. “I looked around for rules while I was waiting. I thought there might be something posted somewhere, like in the public parks and swimming pools, but if you’ve made a list of dos and don’ts, I couldn’t find them.” Again her questioning gaze went straight to Malcolm. That wasn’t good. When he was with a woman, he should only be a lover. Not a host or watchman. Not a man who knew the rules. If he wasn’t careful, all of his newfound responsibility and worry might change him. Make him unfit as a lover.
“There are no rules,” he said. “We only ask for truth.”
“And will you really satisfy my curiosity?”
He made a point of turning her attention to the man beside him. “Raj was raised among great scholars in a Lover’s Temple. He knows everything there is to know about Backusians.”
Raj took his cue. He smiled his smooth, open smile and spread his arms in invitation. “What can I tell you of my planet and my people?”
With a rapt look, Solange toed off both her shoes and folded one leg underneath her on the bench. “I want to know what’s true and what’s made-up,” she said. “There are several different stories about you, most of which are total contradictions.”
“For example?”
“Well,” she said, thinking it over, “some people say you’re just a bunch of sexual savants, better at sex because your planet’s been obsessed with it for centuries. That’s rational enough, I guess. You’re always better at the things you spend more time on.
“But there are lots of magic theories too.” A cheeky
smile let them know that these were juicy stories. “You have some very satisfied customers who claim to have left your company miraculously cured of something they didn’t even know they had. Most of them are saying you have special healing powers and that just one Bod-induced orgasm can unblock years of negative thought patterns and leave a woman ready to do anything she’s ever dreamed of.”
She paused, but Raj was settled in, doubtless waiting for the rest of it—the part that she’d so far been much too kind to mention. Malcolm, on the other hand, would rather they all skip the last part of the story.
“Which brings us to the ‘dangerous and evil’ theory.” Solange shrugged and gave them each a look that said, What can you do? “The killjoys and hysterics among us say you’re crazed sexual vampires bent on making Earth women your willing slaves so that, when you’re ready, you can enlist their help and kill off all the men on the planet, after which you’ll lock the women up and feed on them at will.”
“All compelling stories,” said Raj pleasantly enough. “Which do you believe?”
“I never believe anything.” Solange met his eyes, showing that she meant it. “It’s much too hard to sift through all the nonsense that gets said on infoscreens. I like the second theory best, of course. I’m sure it would be nice if you could orgasm your way to personal fulfillment. And think of feeding precious life into a handsome man while you were coming! That would add some fun to altruism, wouldn’t it?”
Malcolm felt his body tilt a bit toward her. “Would you like to feed life into us?”
“Of course,” she said and laughed. “Who wouldn’t? But”—she looked at Raj—“you promised me you’d tell the truth.”
“So I did.” Raj drew a long, considering breath. “The sexual-savant hypothesis isn’t false,” he said with a slight frown. “Our civilization evolved with agriculture, commerce, and some sense of law, but no politics, no religion, no arts to speak of, and no sports. In place of all of that on Backus, there is sex. The physical exchange of pleasure is our only source of reverence, the organizing principle of life, our pastime, and our craft. We are, as you’ve just said, obsessed.”
“Oh.” She looked a little disappointed. The rational response was clearly not her favorite option.
“It’s also true, however, that because of this age-old obsession, Backusians have evolved abilities of observation that might seem magical to some on Earth.” Raj gave her an engaging look that she returned. “To us the breath is its own language. Right now, for example, I hear and see the air move in and out of you like words. Add to that the flush and pallor of your skin, the movement of your eyes and lips… Your body tells me what you want and how you feel as clear as any form of speech.”
“So you speak body,” Solange summarized.
“Yes,” said Raj. “We’re highly fluent. Physiopaths instead of telepaths, if you prefer.”
“And does that make you healers?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Honesty is healing. Pleasure is a key to truth at times.”
“And what about the vampire thing?” Malcolm straightened at the hated word. Even Raj’s eyebrows lowered. Solange waved a hand as if to clear the air. “I mean,” she said, “let’s just assume you don’t want to kill men and enslave women. Is it true that if you don’t have sex, you’ll die?”
“Yes,” said Raj. Malcolm shook his head.
Solange laughed. “That wasn’t very good,” she teased. “You need to get your stories straight.”
Malcolm looked at Raj, whose eyes were widening to indicate he found their variance on the question of sexless survival perplexing. “The strict physical dependency may be questionable,” Raj finally allowed, “but the mental and emotional dependence is both completely true and unrelenting. I might survive without sex for a month or two. Maybe longer. But I’d much rather die.”
Solange laughed again, even when Raj made it clear he wasn’t joking. Once she’d gained control, she spread her arms in invitation.
“So does that mean you’re both hungry to make love to me?”
“You can’t possibly doubt it.” The quickness of Raj’s answer seemed to charm her.
When she turned to Malcolm, her features shifted. “You look distracted,” she said with concern. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I know Amin barked something about two Bods, but he’ll get over it if you have to leave.”
Distracted. The word made Malcolm physically recoil from her. It was the worst thing a woman had ever said to him. The worst thing any woman could say. To be accused of being elsewhere—soft of focus, limp of mind—there was no greater insult on his planet.
Although it stung him to the core, he knew he deserved it. His thoughts had definitely strayed. He’d been thinking of Earth Firsters and their use of words like vampire, enslavement. Then there was Solange herself—attacked in her own home. Now that antialien factions were progressing past the stage of idle rhetoric, the Body House had to become a target at some point, and to say the idea worried him would be the understatement of the year.
But none of that, absolutely none of it, was an excuse for taking his attention from a woman.
Malcolm looked briefly at Raj, deciding he’d use the man’s background to inspire his own course of action. The ancient forms of redress often were the best.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket, hiked his trousers slightly, and got down on his knees. Solange shifted, bemused and uncertain as he took her hands and lowered his face into her palms. She slid her bare foot out from underneath her and placed it on the floor. Malcolm dipped his head and kissed her ankles. Then he rose and worked himself between her knees. Slowly, carefully he gathered her body into his arms, and when he had her fully against him, he stood, holding her steady, coaxing her to find a comfortable position straddling his body.
“I’ve failed you,” he whispered. “More than anything I want to make amends.”
Solange leaned away to look at him. Her eyes were round with genuine surprise. She shifted in his arms, her features growing thoughtful as she recognized the state of his arousal. Eyes on his, she worked her hand between them, examining the long, hard length of his cock.
A broad grin lit her face as she stroked him. “I forgive you,” she said. On a giggle, her forehead dipped and settled on his shoulder. “I’ve always loved erections,” she confided. “I know it’s silly, but they seem so sweet to me, like a shy compliment or even a bouquet.” Her eyes invited him to laugh with her. He didn’t, finding nothing funny in her liking his hard cock. Solange gave a happy sigh, relaxing back into his arms.
From the new vantage point of his body, she glanced around the room, running a hand over the fine silk of his jacket. Her face turned to his, a question in her eyes. “Is it all right to kiss?”
Malcolm nodded slowly.
Thus encouraged, Solange coiled both her arms around his neck, nuzzling his mouth with hers. All of her was soft and warm and giving. The air when she exhaled tickled his cheek. Malcolm’s sexual hunger spiked. He sealed his lips to hers and kissed until she moaned and rocked against him.
“Oh God.” Solange jerked away and caught her breath. “That’s dangerously good. It’s bad enough just looking at you. Your eyes are so gorgeous. They’re like a frozen piece of sky that someone’s splintered into crystals. I swear when you leer at me that way, I feel a little bit insane.” She raised her mouth to him again, kissing him with feeling.
When she moved away a second time, she looked at Raj. Malcolm held her steady as she leaned her body down to where he sat and kissed him too. This time the kiss was hot and hungry from the start. The pink of her tongue slipped between his partner’s parted lips while Malcolm watched. “You’re beautiful too,” she said. “Like candlelight in darkness or a lover’s dream of death.”
His partner looked as intrigued by the poetry as Malcolm was. It was a Bod’s job to be charming. Compliments from women weren’t unusual exactly, but this heartfelt praise and petting was strange. In a good way.
When Solange moved to right herself, Raj rose with her. He ran his fingers through her curls and looked at her.
“Are you reading my breath?” she asked, intrigued. “Can you guess what I want?”
“It’s not a guess.” Raj took her hand and placed it on the hard ridge in his trousers.
Solange closed her eyes and made a sort of humming sound. “I really think that’s wonderful.” She sighed and stroked and sighed again. “You’re both wonderfully big, aren’t you? I wish I could see you naked. Can I?”
In answer Malcolm loosened his grip and let her slide down from his arms. Solange plopped back on her bench, looking expectant.
“Will you really take your clothes off for me?”
They both inclined their heads in the affirmative.
“One at a time,” she said and crossed one leg over the other. Her bare foot made a circle in the air.
Raj’s hand had already reached the top button of his tunic. He raised an inquiring brow at Malcolm, who resumed his seat agreeably enough.
From the corner of the room, they heard the splash of pouring liquid in a glass.
Raj paused. His head tilted contemplatively toward the darkness and the brooding man within. “Are we in danger, do you think?”
“Danger?” Solange followed the direction of his gaze. “Oh no,” she said. “You wouldn’t hurt them, would you, darling?”
“I’ll kill them if they damage you.”
All three stilled at the first words heard from Amin Clay. His voice was gruff, the tone a chilling form of deep sincerity.
“Those terms are acceptable,” said Raj. He went back to unbuttoning his tunic.
Solange glanced at Malcolm. He nodded his accord. There wasn’t any chance of either of them hurting her, and if they did, well, they’d deserve to die.
“He isn’t jealous then?” asked Raj. He focused his appreciative gaze on the man’s wife.
“He’s not jealous at all,” Solange complained. She pursed her lips and shook her head. “It’s utterly demoralizing since I always want to kill the people who make passes at him. Which would be a lot of people. Everyone flirts with Amin. All sexes. All ages. I hate it.”