Gateway To Xanadu (26 page)

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but he’s already been reserved for the evening,” he told me as I tasted my drink, his eyes laughing at me. “Won’t I do for an adequate replacement, or do I make you nervous?”

“I’m not really used to men so much older than me,” I told him with a candor he seemed to be expecting, hoping it would be just that easy to get rid of him. “If I have my choice, I’d rather have someone his age.”

“Being rejected in my old age is hard for me,” he said with a grin he couldn’t keep back, reaching out to touch my chest just above the sarong with one finger. “You’re made for men rather than boys, but I’ll make a deal with you. Spend this one evening with me, and then if you still feel you’d be happier with someone your own age, I’ll see to it that that’s exactly what you get for the rest of your visit. How does that sound?”

“I guess it’ll be okay,” I agreed with only a little reluctance, more relieved than I cared to show. It was only a taste the man was interested in, and once we got where we were going, I’d be rid of him. “Do you need to take vitamins or something first?”

He was sipping at his drink when I asked my question, and he started laughing so abruptly he nearly choked.

“No, I don’t need vitamins or something first,” he managed to gasp out after a minute, shaking his head and chuckling. “Old men of thirty-one are sometimes able to do without them, and I think this is one of those times. If I find myself able to perform at all after an evening of your complimentary observations.

Don’t you know it isn’t nice to doubt a man who has asked you to go to bed with him?”

“I was never really asked before,” I said with a shrug, seeing I could give up on the ploy of trying to make him question himself. “There was always a party to go to, and once the party really got rolling, it usually just happened. What did you mean about the bartender being reserved? Do you mean he already has a date?”

“I meant one of our guests reserved him,” was the answer, those eyes watching me closely. “He happens to be one of the slaves we have aboard to see to our guests. Did you want to try a slave?”

“Not particularly,” I answered in turn, but made sure to sneak another look at the man who was serving an older woman a drink with the same sort of smile he’d given me. “I don’t think I like the idea of slaves, and I certainly don’t like the idea that somebody could do the same thing to me. He doesn’t look like a slave.”

“Because he’s not wearing chains and rags?” Greg Rich asked with renewed amusement, drawing my eyes back to him. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t a slave, you know. Not all slaves are kept in chains and rags. Your uncle seemed somewhat interested in Talla, and if he decides later that she’s the one he wants, she’ll have to serve him even if she doesn’t care to. That’s because she’s a slave, too, which you may not have realized. Will he have to take vitamins or anything if he takes her to his cabin?”

“I have no idea what he takes or doesn’t take,” I told the veiled but deep interest looking down at me, making sure to draw back into myself just a little. “My uncle doesn’t like me very much, and I couldn’t care less what he does. And if he does decide to take Talla to his cabin, I feel sorry for her even if she is a slave.”

“Why?” was the next question, very gently put. “Isn’t your uncle able to live up to his looks in bed? Is that the reason you’re so uninterested in older men?”

“I don’t know what my uncle is like in bed, and wouldn’t want to try finding out even if he asked me,” I came back with calculated stiffness, closing up even more under that light-brown scrutiny. “I told you that he doesn’t like me, and I don’t mind saying the same about him.”

I took a good swallow of my ambrosia as if I were trying to end the discussion, but in strictest truth I couldn’t have been happier that the point had been raised. Being able to lay an official basis for avoiding my traveling companions in the future was a break I hadn’t expected, but I wasn’t in the habit of passing on any good fortune coming my way. Greg Rich would be filing a report at the end of that voyage, and if that report showed a reason for the wandering I intended doing, that wandering might very well be ignored by the next Management rep I came across. There was no guarantee it would work out that way, of course, but it was certainly something worth trying for.

“If your uncle can’t see how much there is to like about you, he’s a fool,” my new friend assured me in a firm, friendly voice, raising his free hand to touch my face. “Why don’t we just go look at the sunset, and forget all about him?”

I gave him a half-smile and a nod, showing I was willing to be diverted to topics more interesting than my uncle, and we both turned toward the wall that showed a view of the shore we had left, the shore behind which the sun was setting. I’d thrown a quick glance behind me before turning all the way, wondering why my jailers hadn’t come back to claim me, and had gotten something of an answer. Val, I’d seen, was just about knee deep in beautiful women, some carrying trays of snacks, some standing empty-handed, all most likely slaves trying to interest him in reserving them for the evening. That he was the most attractive man in the room wasn’t hard to see, and even if he’d been crazy enough to walk away from his admirers to find out what I was doing, he had a role to protect. He was stuck with the need to inspect a bevy of beautiful girls as though he were really interested in them, and Little was silently watching him look them over. I gazed at the beautiful red and purple and pink sunset with Greg Rich, thought about how tough certain assignments were for poor, overwhelmed agents like Val, and would have laughed out loud if I could have possibly gotten away with it.

In another few minutes all the guests aboard were in the area watching the sunset, and Greg Rich turned briefly away from me to be introduced to the last of the arrivals. He’d been keeping up an easy conversation during almost the entire time we’d stood there, and I welcomed the short period of quiet to think about the interesting suspicion that had begun creeping up on me. I took a sip of my drink, swallowed it carefully, then closed my eyes as though I were enjoying the lake breeze, but in reality I was monitoring my reactions to what was going on around me. I’d known almost from the first swallow that the ambrosia was spiked, but I hadn’t been able to figure out with what. By itself the drink wasn’t really doing anything to me, but once I closed my eyes I could feel the urge toward utter relaxation and heightened physical awareness, most likely keyed by that “breeze” that was blowing in off the vu-cast walls. Most of the people who had come in just short of blushing at their abbreviated costumes were no longer aware of embarrassment of any sort, and a large number of them were standing very close to the nearest member of the opposite sex, in most instances one of the slaves. ‘that told me what the rest of the evening was destined to be like, but not at what rate it was supposed to progress.

I sighed as I opened my eyes and took another sip of my drink, briefly wondering what life would be like without all the complications I always seemed to be running into. I didn’t know what the Pleasure Sphere people were using to hype up their guests, but I did know that although I was aware of the goings-on, it would not be affecting me the way it did everyone else. Special Agents are conditioned to resist as many coercions as humanly possible, and as mild a concoction as was working on me right then didn’t stand much of a chance to do what it was designed to do. I was able to know something was trying to affect me and also know in general what it was supposed to do, but that left open the questions of how strongly I should be affected and how quickly I was supposed to reach the end of the line. I was going to have to fake what everybody else was really feeling, and wouldn’t that be fun without answers to the specifics!

The Lord of Luck came to my rescue in the form of Greg Rich, who reappeared at my side to put an arm around my shoulders. Until then he hadn’t really touched me at all, and the sure, decisive gesture told me he wasn’t simply testing to see if the little girl would pull away from him in discomfort. He was expecting the possessive hand slowly stroking my bare arm to be accepted and responded to, which dictated what my reaction had to be. I glanced up at him with a lazy smile and snuggled just a little against him, then continued with sunset-watching and drink-sipping.

By the time the pretty colors were faded from the sky and the gaily decorated lanterns had come on along with the soft music, the food was beginning to be brought out and our seating arrangements were being explained. No tables and chairs were brought into the wide area, which was to be expected from the costumes we’d been provided with. Instead of the restraints of formal dining we were given wide mats and cushions, two to a mat and the food placed on the floor in front of the couple on the mat. Big wooden platters held the food, but eating utensils were also conspicuous by their absence, leaving nothing but fingers with which to dig in. The very relaxed crowd was delighted by this innovation; and any time anyone’s glass got emptied, it was quickly refilled.

I’d more than half expected that Greg Rich would find a dim corner for us to share a mat in, so I found myself surprised when he guided me over to a place where three mats were being arranged around floor space adequate to hold platters enough for six. A glance at the rest of the room showed that no one was being allowed to sit in a shadowy corner, and no couple was being left to sit alone. Six was the smallest number of any group, and one batch even had twelve. People were laughing and talking softly, old friends and new acquaintances alike, and just as we reached our mat the other four of our little set reached theirs. One couple was Val and the dark-haired Talla, she trembling softly and almost afraid to look up at him, and the other was John Little and a friend. It didn’t bother anybody that Little’s friend was male, not even the male slave he had chosen, especially since they weren’t the only ones in the room to be part of a unisex couple. As long as everyone formed half of a required pair, no one made any further demands, comments or distinctions.

“Where were you?” Val’s voice came, and I looked up to see that he was talking to me, disapproval distinct in his eyes and tone. “I expected you to be right behind me, but when I looked you weren’t. Did I give you permission to wander away?”

“I’m afraid the fault is mine,” Greg Rich interrupted smoothly before I could say anything, his arm tightening the least bit around me. I had stiffened in an automatic way at the supposed criticism, but apparently the slip was acceptable even in the presence of whatever we’d been given in our drinks. “I kept your niece from following you, Mr. Carter, so whatever blame there is must fall on my head. I can see our food is on its way to us, so I suggest we all get comfortable now. ”

The woman Talla began trying to get Val’s attention as Greg Rich turned his own attention to showing me which mat was ours, but she didn’t have immediate success. Val spent a few seconds staring at the big Management rep before turning his attention to the woman he’d chosen, and I sincerely hoped no one but me had caught the look in his eyes. As I sat down on the soft, yellow mat next to my escort for the evening I firmly kept myself from wondering about that look, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t worry a little. It had been so much like Val’s hunter look that it had startled me, but there had also been one of readiness to answer a challenge before Val regained petulance, and that readiness hadn’t been any part of the character he’d adopted. I didn’t bother asking myself in what way he thought he was being challenged, because I didn’t really want to know. If I had been smart enough to tackle that assignment alone, the question would never have come up.

Once we were all settled on the mats the food was put in front of us, and playtime began in earnest. It was pointed out to me by Greg-“Call me Greg; or you’ll start making me feel ancient again”-that we could share the food much more easily if I sat in his lap and we fed each other, so that’s what I did. I didn’t mention how ridiculous I felt sitting in a man’s lap even if he was almost Val’s size, and he didn’t suggest that we talk about the first thing to come up; we spent our time stuffing food in each other’s mouths, and if that had been a different time and place the silliness would have been a lot of fun. The music changed slowly to a rhythm with a throbbing beat in it, and when we became aware of it, we began exchanging a few sticky kisses in between bites. That turned out to be funny instead of sexy-stickiness and chewing tend to do that to kissing-but that just made it even more fun. We laughed and ate and had our glasses refilled, and had just as good a time as everyone else in the room.

Or, almost everyone else in the room. After we’d washed in the large bowls brought around by the serving slaves and had dried on the towels they carried, Greg and I tried another kiss and discovered that it was no longer funny. His arms held me tight to his chest and his lips were definitely becoming demanding, and I didn’t have to work too hard reminding myself that my resistance to him was supposed to be just about all washed away by the drinks-and-breeze arrangement. Greg Rich was a very attractive man, one who was looking for nothing but a brief good time, and that combination raised his interest level for me. I returned his kiss with more youthful enthusiasm than skill, something that seemed to amuse him, and then he was pushing me to my feet and following me erect. It was time to go elsewhere and get comfortable it seemed, and I wasn’t in any way reluctant.

When I stopped to stretch and look around the room, I discovered that more than half of those who had been with us during the meal were no longer there. Four of five couples had decided that the walk to a cabin would waste too much time, and were going at it right there on their mats. John Little was also being worked on by his slave, his eyes closed at the pleasure he was being given, and then I ran into the stare of the only one in sight who didn’t seem to be part of the general good time.

“And where do you think you’re going?” came the flat question which went so well with the stare, both coming from my beloved partner. I stared at him like an idiot, totally beyond understanding what he was doing, those black eyes unrelentingly on me despite Talla’s attempt to bring his attention back to her, and for the second time Greg Rich came to my rescue.