Rescue From Planet Pleasure (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

Jolie studied the chalices swimming in the pond. “I could use a snack.”

“No problem,” Carmen replied. She put two fingers into her mouth, puffed her cheeks, and let loose an ear-splitting whistle.

The chalices in the water froze, turned their faces toward us, and swam to the marble steps. Carmen proceeded down the steps to the edge of the pond. Jolie and I followed.

None of the chalices acted surprised that they had guests. Maybe they were so used to being watched and probed that another pair of visitors was no big deal.

The female chalices emerged first. Water filled the cups of their bikini tops, stretching them open, and I craned my neck for a better view. Juanita’s postage-stamp yellow bikini glowed against her olive skin. The other woman, a slender blonde with a pink complexion, wore a floral print swimsuit that was equally abbreviated and revealing.

Carmen introduced Jolie and me to Juanita—Juanita Pacheco from Rivas, Nicaragua—and the other woman, Cassie Tait, from Arnhem, the Netherlands. Both women smiled politely, but their eyes expressed dampened curiosity.

The two men climbed out of the pond. Water dripped from the bulges in their banana hammocks. One of the men had a compact build, and his black hair lay in thick, shiny strands down the sides of his head. A knobby chin punctuated his square-shaped face. His name was Irsan Hirari, and he mentioned that he was from Semarang, Indonesia.

The other man—Toby Huxley, a long-limbed blond from Melbourne, Australia—replied to our introductions with a hearty, “G’day.”

All the chalices looked to be in their mid-twenties, with radiant skin and well-toned physiques. They reminded me of Olympic athletes, the healthiest examples of humans anyone could possibly find. Even after Carmen explained that Jolie and I were also from Earth, the chalices remained reserved and cool.

I glanced at Jolie to gauge her reaction. Her gaze roved over the chalices and while her mouth held a pleasant smile, I could sense the gears and switches in her head working to figure out the deeper meaning of what was going on.

“Convenient that everyone speaks English,” she commented.

Carmen replied, “The Nancharm made that a requirement when they placed the order.”

“An order for what?” Jolie asked.

“Not what,” Carmen answered, “who. The chalices.”

My turn. “An order with who?”

“The alien gangsters,” she explained. “Clayborn’s people.” Of course, the same bunch of intergalactic criminals that had engineered Carmen’s kidnapping.

Ignoring that we were talking about them, the chalices picked up towels from a stack on the steps and began blotting themselves dry, stretching their lean legs and twisting from side to side, their muscles flexing deliciously beneath taut skin.

Toby turned away to dry the back of his legs and I noticed a thin scar that ran down his spine. The scar started from under the hair at the back of his head and continued down to his trunks. I squinted at the scar and saw four more, short parallel lines just visible at the base of his skull. The scars were precise and straight—surgical, not souvenirs from an accident. I couldn’t think of a medical reason for such incisions and when I looked to Carmen, her guarded expression told me to hold my questions for another time.

She told Toby and Cassie to gather the towels and go inside. Irsan and Juanita were instructed to lie on the table.

We climbed the steps back to the patio. Carmen asked Jolie and me to join her at the table. Irsan and Juanita stretched on top of the table and laid down on their backs, Irsan with his head in front of Jolie, Juanita rested her head in front of me.

Irsan smiled eagerly at Jolie, and then at Carmen. He presented his wrist, which she grasped in one hand the way one might a martini glass. Juanita kept her lips tight as she offered her neck. I guess she didn’t want me to feed off her but too bad. I was a vampire, she was a chalice, and them’s the rules.

Fangs extended, we vampires pressed our mouths to the inviting skin, Jolie and me to the chalice’s throats, Carmen to Irsan’s wrist. Blood spurted onto my tongue, the liquid warm and delicious, resplendent with notes of chocolate and ripe peppers—what you’d expect from a good Type O Positive. Full-bodied with no fast-food chemical aftertaste. I lapped healing enzymes and for her troubles, gave Juanita a good dose of endorphins. She gasped and released a tiny moan. I held her trim middle and appreciated her firm flesh. Mr. Happy was getting a blood rush, and I wondered if I should propose a free-for-all, in the interest of Nancharm science, of course.

Carmen cleared her throat and snagged my attention. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

Another
time then
. I relaxed my grip on Juanita and let her catch her breath. She took one of my hands and kissed it in gratitude.

She and Irsan slid off the table and left tracks from their wet bathing suits. Carmen dismissed them. Juanita departed first. Irsan stared pleasantly at me before he left her side. He didn’t go so far as wink, but I knew he had sword fighting in mind.

A vampire mentor once explained that in view of our immortality, I would eventually let go of any inhibitions I had about indulging in homosexuality. For one, he explained I was a vampire, one of the Damned, an undead bloodsucking killer, so playing catcher or pitcher with another man wouldn’t even register in my list of pervy extracurricular activities. Given that I could live forever, shagging vaginas might get a little monotonous, so why not smoke a pole on occasion?

But I had plenty of time to switch teams and I was still curious about plumbing the depths—so to speak—regarding the pleasures of female company.

I watched Juanita as she walked away and appreciated how the wet bikini clung to her curvy bottom. “I don’t understand the need for bathing suits. You said the Nancharm don’t understand modesty. Seems like the pond makes for a great opportunity to skinny dip.”

“Moots explained that they prefer to see us wear clothes,” Carmen replied. “That way, when we do ‘show-and-tell,’ it signals them we’re about to have sex.”

“I thought they’d be monitoring your brain waves or something like that.”

“They do.” Carmen pointed to ferns growing beside the patio. “These are sensors.”

I reached down and touched the leaves. They were delicate and very life-like. I broke a stem and the milky sap that oozed from it seemed authentic.

“It’s a mutant,” Carmen explained.

“Seems with all their DNA problems,” Jolie said, “the Nancharm would’ve learned their lesson about screwing around with chromosomes. Theirs and everything else’s.”

Carmen shrugged. “That’s their business. But back to the question about why the Nancharm make us wear clothes. They’re astonished how much sex we humans have on the brain.”

“They can read our minds?” I asked.

“No. They monitor brain-wave activity and chemical levels and correlate those to our behavior. To them, we’re obsessed with sex, and their instruments have a tough time distinguishing between when we’re merely fantasizing and when we’re committed to the deed. When we drop trou in one another’s company, that signals ‘Blast Off!’ and the Nancharm scramble to pay attention. I’ve seen their monitoring room. It looks like mission control at NASA.”

I imagined the scenario. Carmen and her chalices expose their junk and start playing. An alarm goes off. Nancharm men in skinny ties and nerdy glasses hustle to their desks and put on headsets. They stare at banks of monitors to study their human prisoners performing the pelvic boogie and maybe even cheer a cream pie.

“And you don’t mind the show?”

“You learn not to care. They have cameras all over.” Carmen waved a hand. “Tiny and practically invisible.”

“Next question,” Jolie said. “What’s the deal with Toby’s scars?”

Carmen replied. “Aside from being stranded billions of miles from Earth, there’s an even darker side to our cozy, little paradise. The Nancharm dig into Toby on occasion to learn how he works.”

“Works?”

“His erections.”

“What about Irsan?” Jolie continued.

“He’s the control specimen,” Carmen replied. “But my boy-toy Toby has got so many sensors and scanners implanted inside him he’s practically bionic.” She pinned me with a stare. “And I fear the Nancharm will do the same to you.”

***

Chapter Twenty-two

Carmen’s gaze turned icy cold. I was certain the climate-controlled air around the patio hadn’t dropped a degree in temperature, but my skin still goose bumped.

The Nancharm might slice me open and stuff me with wires like they’d done to Toby. I looked across the table at Carmen. “Why don’t you tell Moots that since I’m a vampire, I can’t be monkeyed with.”

“If the topic comes up, I’ll give it try,” she replied. “In the meantime, I suggest you keep your dick limp and corralled in your pants. You start sporting wood, and you could find yourself as the new Exhibit A.”

Great. I mean, really fucking great!
The one bennie of this outer-space escapade was the chance to score some leg from Cassie and Juanita—Carmen and Jolie were welcome to join in—but if I did, I was sure to find myself pinned and splayed against an examination table.

“What about Jolie?” My gaze slid to her.

She fought a grin. “The issue is not with the women, which means I’m free to party.” The grin deepened. “Must suck to be you.”

“It’s the lack of suck that’s pissing me off.”

Carmen tapped my hand. “Poor Felix. But look at the bright side. Without the distractions, you’ll have plenty of time to figure a way home.”

The chill gave way to a warm flush of resentment. “If that means I’m getting a rain check on the sex, expect me to cash it in when we get home.”

She grasped my hand and planted it on one of her boobs. Her breast was exquisitely firm and delectable. “That’s the spirit. Set goals and think positive.”

I glanced between my legs. “You’re not helping matters.”

Her eyes twinkled. “I know, and don’t you hate me for it?”

Reluctantly, I withdrew my hand so I didn’t set off an alarm and have the Nancharm rush in with nerve connectors and laser scalpels.

Jolie chuckled, and since I didn’t see the humor in my situation, she was definitely laughing at and not with me. After a moment, she grew quiet and pensive and looked back to the building. “Why are the chalices so uptight? The arrival of friendly company should brighten their day. Plus, they seem a little slow on the uptake. Are they drugged?”

Carmen shook her head. “Actually, they’re quite sharp. Their lack of cheer is that they’re not happy to meet new prisoners. Several other chalices have cycled through this laboratory, and we’ve learned that for us, there’s only one way off D-Galtha.”

“Not alive, I take it?” I replied.

Carmen nodded.

Our prospects curdled what remained of our satisfied mood from the blood meal. We took in our surroundings and brooded. The garden, once so perfect and comforting, now seemed cartoonish and diabolical.

The blossoms around the patio began to pulse with light and go
Bing! Bing! Bing!

Carmen’s eyes crinkled with displeasure. She obediently stood and faced the door. Jolie and I pushed away from the table and rose to our feet.

The door swung open. The doorframe amazingly widened and grew taller. The flower blossoms dimmed and went silent.

Moots glided through the doorway and once she had passed, it shrank to its previous dimensions. She waved her skinny arms and slid toward us. Her head tendrils fluttered, and her translator/cap said, “Well …”

“Well, what?” Carmen asked.

Moots pointed at Jolie and me. “We’re waiting.”

None of us moved.

“Oh, reeeallyy …” Moots said, the translator/cap doing a good job of relaying her sarcasm. “You humans can be so difficult. Too difficult for your own good.” She stabbed her fingers in all directions. “The committee is watching.”

“What committee?” I asked.

“The Erection Analysis Committee. In the control room, which you know all about, thanks to Carmen.” Moots pointed at my crotch. “We’re waiting for the boom, boom.”

“I’m flattered by the attention, but I’m not in the mood.”

Moots dropped her arms and approached close to tower over me. “Not in the mood? Not in the mood!” Her tendrils shook like tree branches in a wind, and the translator blared so loud the air trembled around me. “
Not in the fuckin’ mood!
” She twisted her torso to face Carmen. Her voice softened. “How was that?”

Carmen nodded. “Good.”

“Thanks. I have been paying attention to your human mannerisms.” Moots faced me again. “Then Felix, what is the problem?” She touched her chest and waved her hand. The glowing outline of a human female materialized before me. “Explain something. As a sexual anthropologist specializing in the most bizarre of extraterrestrial forms,” she tipped her head toward me, “I’ve learned that the human females here fall into the ninety-eighth percentile of what you human males find desirable. What I named the Booty-Call Index.” A full-body image of a naked Cassie rotated inside the outline. The number 98.45% flashed above. That image was replaced by one of Juanita. 98.72% Jolie. 99.05% Carmen. 99.99% “Unless …” Moots wiggled her finger. The outline broadened to depict a rather plump, busty woman. “Maybe you prefer BMWs?”

“That’s BBWs,” corrected Carmen.

“No? Yes?” Moots asked, waiting for me.

Actually, I liked most women, and a chunky gal could smother you with warm, sweaty love. But I thought it best to keep quiet because I didn’t want the Nancharm to kidnap yet another chalice. Besides the lack of shag-worthy women wasn’t the problem.

“Oh!” Moots exclaimed. “You are gay.”

“No,” I protested. “I’m just not in the mood.”

Moots’ tendrils fell limp, and I could feel the pressure of her glare through those cold, blank eyes. Her tendrils puffed once, and she sighed, “Men.”

She slid over the patio back toward the door. I watched how the bottom segment of her body skirted against the ground, hiding her feet or whatever it was that propelled her so smoothly.

“Carmen,” she said, “he is your responsibility. I want to see a Felix erection, and I want to see it go pop.”

Normally, not a problem.

Moots spun in place and looked at me. “If you’re going to make me wait this long, it had better be good.”

“I’ll try.”

“Do better than try.”

Jolie elbowed me and whispered, “How’s that for pressure?”

I whispered back, “Thanks for your support.”

Moots continued for the building. “Carmen, I brought supplies for your kitchen. In my study of human-mating rituals, a good meal helps set the right mood.” Moots twisted to stare at me again. “And we want the right mood, don’t we?”

“Absolutely.”

“Otherwise,” Moots said, “well …” Her tendrils dropped, and her voice trailed off. “Carmen can explain.”

Carmen shook her head. “It’s not a good thing. You’d be mulched for the plants.”

My dilemma pinched like the jaws of a vice. If I performed, they’d open me up for study. If I didn’t perform, I’d be turned into fertilizer.

When Moots drew close to the door, it opened, and the doorframe grew to let her pass. Carmen, Jolie, and I followed her through. I glanced warily at the frame, not convinced it wouldn’t snap tight around us. But it returned to its safe, human size. Moots led us through the salon, the dining room, and to the kitchen. At each threshold, the doors stretched open to let Moots pass, and I wondered why the doors hadn’t been made large enough to begin with.

The chalices were all in the kitchen. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirts and were busy picking through metal containers stacked on a hover platform. Juanita was giving orders, and Cassie and the two men sorted through sacks, packages, and small boxes they’d retrieved from the containers. Everything was decorated with pictures of food. Most were labeled in languages I didn’t understand, but a few were in English, complete with bar codes. Baking soda. Salt. Sugar.

Moots motioned to the door that led back to the main room. “Carmen, I need to speak with you alone.”

Carmen’s eyes flashed
now
what?

She and Moots left through the door and it shut behind them. Juanita put Jolie and me to work. She asked Jolie to help her and the two men store the packages in the cupboards and to replenish the cabinet bins with tea, coffee beans, and grain from the sacks. I was to help Cassie make bread. We washed our hands in the counter sink, then scooped flour from a bin and into a large ceramic bowl. She added salt, yeast, and water and folded the ingredients with a big spoon.

“I’m surprised the Nancharm don’t provide ready-to-eat food,” I said.

“They prefer not to,” Cassie answered, her voice thick with a Dutch accent. “Boredom can be a problem. Having us make our own food is busy work, but it is a good busy.” She pushed the bowl across the counter toward me. “Now, you knead the dough.”

I jammed my fingers into the damp lump and began to squeeze. “You guys make everything?”

“What we can. We once tried cheese and chocolate, but they were terrible.” She grimaced. “The Nancharm import the food.” Cassie opened one of the refrigerators. The shelves were stacked with meats and fish in vacuum-packed wrapping.

“Import from where?” I imagined a farm of octo-cows or an aquarium of wooly fish.

“Earth … mostly,” her voice trailed off. “But it’s all tasty and nutritious.”

I studied a package of meaty rings. Might have been calamari, or alien bung sliced into imitation calamari.

Cassie kicked the refrigerator door closed.

I kept kneading the dough. “How did you get here?”

“Much like the others. One foggy night I was minding my business, riding my bicycle along the Rhine near Schuytgraaf-Noord.” Cassie raised her head and stared at the wall. “There was a bright light.” Her eyes widened. “And a blink later.” She blinked. “I was awakened and sliding from a silver tube far, far from earth.”

“That was how long ago?”

She shrugged. “Many, many months. A year. Perhaps two. I had no calendar. Then I was brought here to help Carmen.” She nudged me aside and plunged her hands into the dough. Her fingers dug angrily as if she wanted to strangle the lump.

I asked, “You miss home?”

“That’s a stupid question.” Cassie pressed down hard and the dough pushed between her fingers. “Of course I miss home. I’m grateful that Carmen tries as best as she can to make life here tolerable and—”

I glanced at our sumptuous five-star surroundings. “Seems more than tolerable.”

“A prison is still a prison.” Cassie lifted a shoulder and blotted a teary eye. “I have children. Two boys, and I miss them very much.”

“And your husband?”

She gave a brittle chuckle. “You don’t need a husband to have children.” She kept her face down to hide her despair.

I looked to see what the others were doing. Juanita and Jolie pulled fresh produce from another container on the hover platform. They inspected cauliflower and heads of lettuce that they placed in the sink. Irsan and Toby were busy chopping tomatoes and bell peppers.

Cassie pressed against me, and her cheek brushed my ear. She whispered, “You’re expecting to return home?”

I whispered back, “That’s my plan.”

“How?”

“That’s still a little unclear.”

She leaned back so that her eyes locked with mine. I realized that my gaze had no effect on her. Not only could I no longer see auras, I had apparently lost my powers of hypnosis.

Cassie grasped handfuls of my t-shirt and pulled close. “Take me with you.”

We were close enough to kiss, but her expression was far from amorous. Her blue eyes were pools of cold hate. “The Nancharm have good reason to fear us humans. Sooner or later we’ll adopt their technology, and when we do, we’ll return and grind them into dust.”

“Provided they’re still around.”

“If they all dropped dead this instant, it wouldn’t be too soon.”

I whispered, “Aren’t you afraid they can hear you?”

“I hope they can. And
fuck them!
” Cassie’s bitterness unsettled me, and I pulled loose from her grip. Did the other chalices feel the same way? How much were they willing to sacrifice to escape?

I had to sort through my thoughts, so I excused myself and went outside to the pond.

I stood on the patio and looked up. I could detect the spinning motion of the ring circling the planet. The sky darkened directly above, and the veil of twilight seeped evenly toward the horizons, instead of moving from east to west like on earth. Stars glittered faintly in the gathering darkness. One of the tiny ones might be the earth’s sun.

I had to avoid the Nancharm’s experiments, but my priority had to be fleeing this planet with Carmen and Jolie. And with the chalices.

Then how to escape? I had no idea how to find a portal.

A silvery craft cruised along the lower sky. One of the Nancharm’s flying saucers.

I watched it glide past when an idea blossomed.

Our ticket home.

***