John Ringo: Emerald Sea

“They wouldn’t…” Christel said, desperately.

“Yes they would and you know it,” Megan replied. “So we have to make sure that Paul survives. You were right all along; we’re here for Paul’s needs. But he has more needs than the ‘duty’ to turn up from time to time and inseminate us. And I’m going to prove it to him.”

“Go,” Christel said, finally. “Try it.”

“I will,” Megan replied. “Shanea, Paul is in the office. Go get him. Take… Velva. Take him to the baths. Bathe him, don’t let him do a thing for himself. Don’t have sex with him. If he says he wants to, tell him ‘not now, later, just bathe now.’ Got it?”

“Give Paul a bath,” Shanea nodded, gulping. “Don’t have sex with him, even if he wants it. What if he really wants it?”

“Really tell him, ‘later.’ When you two are done, bring him to his room in a robe,” she turned to Mirta. “Mirta, get Amber into her costume, then go to the kitchen door. Get a platter. Light foods. Bread, fruit, cheese, a small carafe of wine. Then bring it and Amber to Paul’s room.”

“Paul has… problems with Amber,” Christel said. “Are you sure…?”

“I’m sure,” Megan said, looking around. “Girls, go get into your new costumes. When Paul comes through from the bath, I want you to stand up and move in around him saying nice things. Nothing important, just that we’re glad he’s here. Don’t be suggestive. And don’t try to follow him in. If this works out I’m going to keep him here for at least a couple of days.”

She looked at Shanea and Mirta, then gestured. “Go.”

Megan stood for a moment, pulling at her hair, then turned to Christel.

“I have things I need in the workroom,” she said. “If I could…”

“Go,” Christel said, “you’re doing fine. I think you’re right, okay? Girls, what are you doing just sitting around? Up on your feet, go get dressed…”

Megan rushed to her room and grabbed up various pots, then to the abandoned still-room. Shanea had taken to watching the bubbling substances for her but with the girl otherwise occupied Megan turned down the heat on all the crucibles, grabbed some bottles and headed for the toilet.

There were other girls in there jockeying for position in front of the mirrors but Megan shoved one of them out of the way with her hip and carefully deposited her bundles on the countertop.

“Ashly,” she said, looking over at where the blonde was brushing her hair in front of a mirror. “My next-stage perfumes; they’re a little more concentrated. And I need somebody to mix something for me while I do my makeup.”

Ashly looked at her as if she had grown another head, then nodded.

“Okay, Karie, you do the mixing,” Ashly said, walking over to look at the bottles and pots. “What is all that?”

“Perfumes, oils, massage creams,” Megan said. “Karie,” she continued, opening up a jar and dropping a few milliliters of oil onto the cream inside. “Mix that up for me, please?”

“What is it?” Karie asked, sniffing at the contents.

“Almond massage paste, the oil is sesame,” Megan said, looking in the mirror. “I don’t have time ,” she muttered, picking up a flat of eye shadow.

“Vita, do her hair,” Ashly said. “Megan, calm down. What the hell is wrong?”

“Did you see him?” Megan asked, turning to the girl. “He looks like a zombie.”

“I saw. Megan, don’t tell me you’re falling in love ,” Ashly said, smirking.

Megan closed her eyes and decided not to “explain” to Ashly the facts of life, again. But it was tempting.

“No, I’m not falling in love,” Megan replied, wondering if it was a true reply or not. “But if Paul dies, all this will go away and very bad things will probably happen to us, okay? I don’t want that to happen. Do you?”

“No,” Ashly said. “I hadn’t thought…”

“Neither had Christel,” Megan replied as Vita combed her hair and Ashly took the eye makeup out of her shaking hands.

“What are you going to do?” Vita asked. She was brushing Megan’s hair up and out to make it appear larger.

“I’m going to make him the one happiest son of a bitch in the world,” Megan replied. “I’m going to make him never want to leave. And then I’m going to convince him that, for the good of the world, he shouldn’t for a while. A few days at least. And we’re going to feed him up and primp him and pamper him until he’s able to take care of himself again.”

“And if you can’t?” Ashly asked, brushing on the makeup expertly.

“Lightly, please,” Megan said. “Then we might as well all cut our own throats. Do you want to be turned over to Reyes? Or the Changed?”

“Oh, God!” Vita said.

“Right, so we’d better make him really happy,” Megan said, looking in the mirror. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Ashly replied.

Megan picked up the pile of cloth at her feet and put on the new “outfit” that Mirta had made for her; a bikini bottom with a long “loincloth” front and back and a tight matching top like a sleeveless shirt that completely covered her breasts except for a swelling that dropped out from the bottom. It practically begged to be pushed up.

“You look like… well you look good,” Ashly said.

“You all need to get dressed, too,” Megan replied. “Hurry.”

She picked up the pots, nodding at Karie and Ashly and practically ran out the door.

She dropped the pots in Paul’s room and then ran back to the office, getting the synopsis of all the accounts that she had prepared. She knew that Christel usually covered them with Paul but that had to stop soon, too. There were too many inconsistencies that Christel, bless her black stupid heart, wouldn’t know how to explain.

She piled the reports by the pillows and then assumed a modest position and waited. Before Paul got there Mirta came in with the platter of food and Amber. As Mirta left, she settled Amber in place, positioned the tray of food and wine, with the addition of a carafe of water, which was smart thinking on Mirta’s part, and settled down to wait again. She had barely had time to rearrange the pillows when she heard a murmur from the main room and the door opened up. She could see that the girls were all in their finest and as Paul came in the room she imperceptibly waved at Velva not to follow him in. The girl looked nonplussed but closed the door behind her.

“Megan,” Paul said, weakly, “this is all quite unnecessary…”

“Hush,” Megan said, standing up and unbelting his robe. “Lie down.”

“Megan,” he said, looking at the other two girls.

“Have you bedded each of us?” Megan said, pushing him down.

“Well… yes… but…”

“Hush,” she replied. “No talk. No work talk, no talk at all.”

She rolled him over on his stomach and positioned Shanea and Amber on either side.

“Like this,” she said, taking up a fingerful of the massage cream and dabbing it on his upper arm. She took Amber’s hands and pushed the thumbs into the muscle, working down the arm. “Slowly and firmly, all the way down the arm. You understand? Don’t pinch.”

“Down the arm,” Amber said with a nod, pressing into the flesh of his triceps. “Don’t pinch.”

“Shanea, you do the other arm,” Megan said, rubbing the cream into his back, then beginning to massage.

“Oh that feels good,” Paul murmured.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Paul Bowman,” Megan replied, pressing into his muscles. They were firm from work but he was so skinny. “What happens to us if you die?”

“I won’t die,” Paul said, starting to push up.