“See—they’re fine.” J’are had evidently been watching her watch the girls. “Are you ready now?”
After seeing the two little girls jump in so fearlessly, Imani didn’t feel like she could admit to a fear of heights herself.
“Okay.” She held out her hand to J’are. “On three?”
“You count,” he agreed.
They walked to the edge.
“Okay.” Imani took a deep breath.
“One…two…three!” she exclaimed, and she and J’are jumped.
Her heart nearly stopped as they leaped and gravity dragged them downwards. Their momentum carried them directly into the swirling pink water below, but the moment they slid into the liquid, Imani felt a strange sense of weightlessness.
Of course, one always felt somewhat weightless when suspended in water, but this was more pronounced—nothing weighed anything at all. She could see her long black braids floating in every direction around her head like a dark starburst and though she could feel the water surrounding her, she encountered no resistance when she waved her arms to push herself through it.
It was more like flying or floating than swimming, Imani thought as she and J’are glided through the pink liquid. Of course, because of the zero G, they would never have gotten anywhere without something to pull or push off of. Suspended in the pink water at intervals were puffy blue and green cushions. They were soft enough so that if someone ran into one, they wouldn’t be hurt, but firm enough to grab onto and push off from.
Imani thought later that as long as she lived, she would never forget the experience of swimming in an anti-grav pool. It was magical—gliding through the clear pink water with its swirls of emerald and cerulean and violet while holding hands with J’are and pushing off the green and blue cushions to go deeper and deeper into the pool.
There were little clusters of kids playing at the top level of the pool but lower down it appeared to be reserved for adults. There were a few Mistresses and bodyslaves swimming but even further down it seemed that she and J’are had the place to themselves.
Imani could see the perimeters of the pool—it was a vast pink cube, seemingly floating in midair—a cube that was almost five stories high and five stories wide. She saw the people sitting and chatting on the ledges that overlooked it at various levels, but inside the pink liquid there was only the soft rushing of the water in her ears and the gentle, cool caress of it on her mostly bare skin.
It was both soothing and invigorating and not nearly as tiring as swimming in a pool with gravity. She felt like she could go on floating like this forever but at last J’are pointed to the watch on her arm and she saw that they now had only two and a half hours until court. Maybe it was time to start getting out.
She nodded at him and he nodded back and began to lead the way downward. Looking down, Imani saw the bottom surface of the vast, floating cube of water. Far under it—another ten or fifteen feet—was a blue surface.
As she watched, a bodyslave whose blond hair was floating all around his head, grabbed onto one of the stationary blue cushions and pushed his way out of the pool. Gravity took hold of him once more and he dropped like a rock.
Imani’s heart rate doubled as she watched, wondering if he was going to smash to pieces on the floor below. To her immense relief, he only bounced twice and then made his way to the nearby exit.
J’are, who had been watching too, pointed downward and raised his eyebrows. Imani nodded and they also found a blue cushion. Gripping its soft surface, Imani pushed with her feet downward, just as she had seen the blond bodyslave do.
In an instant, she was in freefall. A scream of excitement rose to her lips and she let loose with a whoop of joy as she landed and bounced upward like she was on a trampoline.
J’are whooped with her and laughed as he bounced too. Imani put a hand to her face and realized the corners of her mouth hurt from smiling. Had she been grinning like a fool the whole time they were swimming? She felt like she must have been. She had the same feeling she’d had as a kid when she rode a rollercoaster—a scary but exciting thrill that made her heart beat faster and her adrenaline rush.
“That was so much fun!” she gushed to J’are as he took her hand and they walked in big, bouncy steps over to the exit. “I wish we could do it again.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid we have to get ready to go—it took me forever to get a ride to the legal building yesterday so there’s no time to spare.”
“It did?” J’are frowned. “But it’s not that far from here. Why did it take so long?”
Imani told him about all the drivers who wouldn’t take her and then the one who had but who had insisted on giving her a tour of the city first and then dropping her off on the wrong side of the road.
“Of course, all those drivers were those awful praying mantises—those morphids,” she added and frowned. “Considering what happened with them—the attack on the bridge and the tray bomb this morning, I can’t help wondering if all of them were working together to try and make me miss my court date.” She looked at J’are. “Or is that paranoid of me?”
“Not at all.” He shook his head. “Morphids have a hive mind—they report back to a queen, who tells them what to do. As many as you encountered yesterday, it’s not impossible that they were all from the same hive and taking orders from the same person.”
“You know, your mother’s niece, Lady Bittlebum, had one with her in court yesterday,” Imani said thoughtfully.
“Yes, because they’re cheaper than owning more bodyslaves,” J’are shrugged.
“But…do you think it’s possible she’s behind all this?” Imani raised her eyebrows at him.
J’are frowned.
“I suppose it’s possible but what’s her motive? Why would she want to kill Mistress Zangelo? They were friends—at least as far as I could tell.” He shook his head. “I just can’t think of a reason why she would want to off Lady Z and then cover it up.”
“Well…” Imani sighed. “I guess all we can do is keep our eyes open and get ready to go to court.”
“But you don’t have to rush,” J’are told her. “There’s a hover car service attached to the upper level so clients can come and go, getting spa treatments without having to visit the lower levels if they don’t want to. We can get a car there and be at the legal building in fifteen minutes.”
“That would certainly be better than all the back-and-forthing I had to do yesterday to get there,” Imani admitted. “But will they still have to drop us off on the other side of the road?”
“Of course not.” J’are frowned. “I never heard of any car service doing something like that before. Maybe you’re right and someone didn’t want you to get to court. All you have to do is ask them to drop you at the hover entrance—it’s located three stories up so you bypass the lobby.”
“That sounds perfect.” Imani nodded. “Can we go order a hover car and let them know what time we want to leave? If we can get that settled, I’d love to go for another dip in the pool.”
“I’d like that,” J’are growled softly, looking her up and down.
Imani became suddenly aware that her tiny, thin white suit was now completely transparent. She hadn’t really noticed it when they were swimming because she’d been so excited but now she felt self-conscious again.
Also, had the white suit shrunk in the water? It seemed that the tiny triangles were even smaller, so that just the tips of her nipples were covered now. Looking down, she saw that the triangle which was supposed to be covering her pussy was now no bigger than a penny and wasn’t covering much of anything at all. It had gotten pulled up so that it was resting on the top of her mound and only the thin white string at its bottom was covering her slit.
“Um, are there towels anywhere?” she asked, looking around. “I think this suit has shrunk somehow.”
“Oh, it’s supposed to,” J’are said casually. “That’s the way the Yonnite Mistresses like it—they want to show off at the pool, you know.”<
br />
“Well, I’d like to cover up—I’m cold,” Imani said, putting her arms across her chest and shivering. “And yours didn’t shrink. Or, er, maybe it did,” she added doubtfully, eyeing the white speedo which emphasized his tan skin.
Maybe it wasn’t that his suit had shrunk, so much as what was inside it had grown, she thought. The outline of his long, thick shaft, standing up against his belly, was clearly evident through the wet fabric.
“Sorry,” J’are said gruffly when he saw where her eyes had landed. “Can’t help myself when you look so fucking beautiful. I know I’m just your client and you’re just my Defender, but damn, Imani—you look amazing in that little suit.”
“Oh, uh, thank you.” Imani could feel her cheeks getting hot. She had a sudden urge to step up and rub herself against him—to let him feel the hard points of her nipples against his broad chest. But of course she couldn’t do that. Pushing the impulse sternly away, she said, “Maybe…maybe we both need a towel.”
“Here.” J’are led her to a cart piled high with soft, fluffy towels and Imani wrapped one around herself gratefully. It really was chilly now that they were out of the water. “Better?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Imani nodded.
“Much better—thank you.”
“Good.” J’are nodded. “Then let’s go order that car and then we can go for a second swim.”
That sounded good to Imani, though she hoped her suit wouldn’t shrink any more when they dived in again. If it got much smaller she would be wearing nothing but strings!
Twenty-Five
Gods, she was gorgeous in that tiny little suit! J’are’s shaft was as hard as a rock, making it difficult to walk. He was glad of the towel he’d wrapped around his waist and equally glad that Imani had wrapped one around herself so he could no longer see the tight points of her nipples poking through the thin white material of her suit or her plump pussy lips, her slit only hidden by that tiny white string.
His feral side growled that she should be his—that he should take her and bond her to him, so she couldn’t Claim another male. J’are had to remind himself again and again that she hadn’t really Claimed him—that she wasn’t really his.
But damn, how he wanted her!
He pushed the wanting away as they reached the top floor, where the private spa was located. This was an area he’d never been to before, since Mother Hownow hadn’t approved of it for some reason. Most Yonnite Mistresses, however, loved it from what he had heard.
The entrance to the spa was a long archway of curving, belfa branches. The feathery fronds, each as long as J’are’s arm and made of many tiny green and blue tendrils, made soft, musical chiming sounds as they swayed overhead.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” Imani murmured, looking around at the archway. “But where is the car service?”
“There’s a desk up ahead. I think we can get a car reservation there.” J’are pointed to the white marble counter at the end of the curving archway. Manning it was another bot—this one distinctly feminine in appearance. It had soothing blue-green eyes that matched the fronds overhead and a permanent smile was stamped on its silver lips.
“Greetings, Mistress,” the bot said, turning its glowing blue-green eyes on Imani. “How may I be of service to you today?”
“I’d like to reserve a hover car to take me to the Opulex legal building in about two hours,” Imani told the bot.
“Excellent. And do you have a membership here?” the bot inquired, cocking its head to one side mechanically.
“I…I’m afraid not.” Imani frowned. “Is that a problem?”
“I’m afraid only those with memberships can access our car service,” the bot said. “However, for a small fee I can give you a day-long membership. It comes with a free spa treatment and a relaxation chair in our pleasure grotto,” it added.
“How much?” Imani asked.
The bot named a price that made her frown but then she shrugged.
“Well, Commander Sylvan did tell me I was authorized to spend whatever was necessary,” she murmured to J’are. “And it’s certainly necessary to be sure I can get to court on time. All right, I’ll take the one-day membership deal,” she said, nodding at the bot.
“Very good, Mistress. If you could just show me your cred chip?”
“Oh, it’s locked up with my clothes!” Imani said.
“That’s all right,” J’are told her. “It should be on file since you used it to pay for our meal.”
“If your chip is on file, all I need is your name,” the bot said to her.
“Oh, it is.” Imani nodded. “Um, look under Mistress Imani Williams,” she told the bot, who accessed the chip information easily.
After the transaction was complete, the bot said, “And now, allow me to lead you to the treatment room for a soothing massage.”
“Oh, I don’t—” Imani started but then she stopped. “You know, actually, a massage might be nice. I always get so tense right before court.” She looked at J’are. “Do you mind if we don’t go swimming again right away?”
“Not at all.” He shook his head. “But if you think I’m letting anyone else massage you but me, you’re crazy.”
“What?” Her eyes got wide. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” J’are leaned down and murmured in her ear. “There have already been two attempts on your life. What makes you think they won’t try again? Once you’re alone in a room with some stranger—”
“Okay, I get it!” Imani whispered. “But, well…” She looked at him uncertainly. “You, uh, really want to massage me?”
“I want to protect you,” J’are emphasized. “And don’t worry,” he added, giving her a grin. “I’ve taken private lessons in several massage techniques, so I know what I’m doing.”
“You do?” Her eyes got even wider.
He nodded. “Mother Hownow sent me to the classes, hoping it would help me find a Mistress who wanted to bond with me.”
“I…I don’t know that I’m exactly, uh, dressed for a massage, though,” Imani pointed out.
“Don’t worry,” J’are growled softly. “You can leave your bathing suit on.”
Her saw her nibble her lush lower lip while she thought about it. At last, she nodded.
“All right. I…I guess that would be all right.”
Her words sounded uncertain, but there was nothing unsure about her scent. J’are could smell the heat on her—the unmistakable feminine fragrance of a female in need. She wanted him to touch her as much as he wanted it. But he would have to take things slowly and not overstep her boundaries.
J’are swore to himself that he could do that—that he could give her what she wanted—what they both wanted—without going too far. After all, it was still daylight outside and his feral side was locked up tight.
He swore to himself he would be certain it stayed that way.
Twenty-Six
Imani couldn’t believe she’d just agreed to let the big Nightwalker massage her. But now that she’d agreed, she found she didn’t want to take it back.
It’s not a big deal, she told herself. He has to protect me, like he said. And I can keep things professional.
You mean like you did last night when you gave him a bath and jerked him off? a little voice whispered in the back of her head.
Shut up! Imani told it. That was all a mistake—a misunderstanding. And besides, J’are was in his feral state then. He’s in his thinking mind now so nothing’s going to happen.
Right?
“Come this way,” the reception bot said, interrupting Imani’s inner argument with herself. It whizzed down another long arching corridor of feathery fronds and Imani hastened to follow it with J’are right behind her. They came to a stop in front of a dark red doorway with a curving top and a silver knob directly in the middle of the door.
“This is your treatment room,” the bot intoned.
It opened the door with a click, revealing a dim cave of a r
oom lit by flickering candlelight. A waft of some exotic spice and soft strains of relaxing music issued from within.
“I will send your massage therapist at once,” the bot told Imani.
“Oh, well actually, my, uh, bodyslave here is trained in the arts of massage,” Imani told it. “So if we could just have access to the room and any massage oils or products or whatever, we’ll be fine.”
“As you wish.” The bot nodded its head. “Many Mistresses prefer to let their own bodyslave give their treatments. You will find all necessary items within. If you find you are lacking anything, please return to the counter and I will supply it.”
Then it gave a final nod and whirred away, back to its post behind the reception counter.
J’are caught Imani’s eye and nodded at the open room.
“Well, I guess we’d better go in.”
Heart thumping, she nodded.
“I…I guess we should.” Turning, she stepped into the dimly lit room and took a deep breath of the spicy air. She really shouldn’t be doing this but really, what harm could it do? After all, this was just a massage, right? A massage to help her feel less tense before court—that would be nice. She could—
“All right, Mistress,” J’are rumbled, shutting the door behind her. “If you’d please lay face down on the table and get comfortable?”
“J’are, you don’t have to call me Mistress in here,” she protested. But the big Nightwalker shook his head.
“While I’m massaging you, I’d prefer to keep things professional. I think that will make things…easier for both of us.”
“Oh, of course.” Imani nodded. “That’s fine—thank you.”
“My pleasure, Mistress. Would you like help onto the table?” he asked.
Imani shook her head.
“No, that’s okay.”
She walked over and sat on the padded surface. It looked like a pretty standard massage table, she thought. Well—except for the two shallow wells right below the headpiece, just at chest level.
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