Robert Weinberg - A Calculated Magic

“I recognized the monster from Hugo’s description,” replied Jack. He was so disturbed that he didn’t raise any objections when the nymph casually started to massage his back. “I thought the sphinx committed suicide when Oedipus answered its riddle.”

“No such luck,” said Alis, kneading the flesh beneath her fingers. Jack sighed as the tension drained out of his aching muscles. Megan, he decided after a moment’s hesitation, wouldn’t mind a perfectly innocent rubdown. Especially when it helped him focus his thoughts on their dilemma.

“The sphinx threw herself off her rock,” said Alis, her breath hot against his neck. “But that didn’t kill her. She was so upset that someone guessed the answer to her question that she went into seclusion. Remained there for centuries. If I looked like her, I’d wall myself up in a cave, too.”

The nymph paused to tug his shirltails free of his pants. “Mind removing your top? I can’t do this properly through the cloth. I promise to be good. Word of honor.”

“Okay,” said Jack, permitting the nymph to pull off his shirt. He resumed his position on the pillows, his hands tucked beneath his chin. Shutting his eyes, he tried to relax as Alis’s warm hands expertly manipulated the sinews of his shoulders and upper arms. “Remember, keep it clean.”

“I wouldn’t think of trying anything bad,” said Alis innocently. The tips of her fingers tiptoed gently along his spine. “Your skin is so nice and white. You can’t imagine how tired I get of entertaining the bronzed Adonis types that frequent this resort.”

“Mathematicians don’t have a lot of free time for the beach or tanning salons,” said Jack, defensively.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” said Alis, her hands toying with his belt. “I find intellectuals fascinating. They think of such inventive… ideas.”

She rested her palms on his waist. “Any objections to removing your trousers? You’re wearing shorts, so it’s not sinful. I can sense there’s a lot of tension built up in your calves.”

“What about Hugo and Mongo?” asked Jack. “I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

“Those two birdbrains went hunting for chocolate syrup with Candi,” said Alis, her hands busy with Jack’s pants, “We keep some in the other room for a few of our kinkier guests. I doubt if they’ll return soon.”

It took the nymph only a few seconds to strip Jack of his slacks. For some unknown reason, his lack of clothing didn’t disturb him. Nor did he worry about the nymph keeping her promises, even though he knew such beings were notorious liars. Smiling happily, he luxuriated on the thick cushions. “The air in here smells terrific,” he remarked, as Alis massaged his lower legs.

“It’s scented,” said the nymph. She scrambled around so that her head was facing his feet, putting her in a much better position to massage his calves. “They lace it with a subtle but amazingly powerful aphrodisiac. It works wonders.”

“That’s interesting,” said Jack, dreamily. He hated admitting it, but Alis’s silky caresses were getting him aroused. Very aroused. He smothered a yawn. Meanwhile, the peaceful surroundings were lulling him to sleep.

“Tell me more about the sphinx,” he said, trying to steer the conversation toward his problems.

“I’m not positive when she finally emerged from hiding,” said Alis, “but the old girl was singing a new song. Instead of asking questions, she was answering them. Evidently, she spent most of her years in solitude reading and memorizing facts. I guess she wanted to establish herself as some sort of oracle. But the ugly buzzard soon discovered that no one liked a know-it-all.”

“I’m familiar with that phenomenon myself,” said Jack, thinking of his friend Simon. He wondered what the changeling was doing lately. Hazily, he wondered what Alis was doing at that moment.

“What are you doing?” he asked, momentarily alarmed.

“The waistband of your shorts is stifling the natural flow of blood to your thighs,” said Alis patiently, hooking her thumbs beneath his underwear. In one quick motion, she slid the garment off, leaving Jack completely naked. “Now, doesn’t that feel lots better?”

“I guess so,” he admitted, yawning again. His mind was filled with cobwebs and he was having difficulty thinking straight. He still felt quite aroused, though it no longer seemed very important. It obviously didn’t bother Alis. “How did the sphinx end up working here?”

“She held a job in a Coney Island sideshow for years,” said Alis, “running a memory scam. When Mr. Hasan opened this resort, he hired her as his special assistant. She oversees operations in Paradise from Hell. And she guards special prisoners when the necessity arises.”

“Sort of a den mother and warden combined,” said Jack. “Is she still obsessed with information?”

“You bet,” said Alis, rising from the cushions. “Excuse me while I remove my own clothing.”

“No problem,” said Jack, completely at peace with the world.

“That damned sphinx brags constantly how nobody can ask her a question she can’t answer,” remarked Alis, wiggling out of her pantaloons. She dropped them in a heap on top of her jacket. “Talking with her is a real drag.”

“If she comes from ancient Greece,” said Jack, languidly, “and like all supernatural beings is true to her nature, she doesn’t know lots of things. Facts aren’t answers.”

“Whatever,” said Alts. “Enough discussion. I’m interested in intercourse of another nature.”

Sensuously, the nymph straddled Jack’s lower back, her naked thighs pressing against his. The entire weight of her extremely hot, extremely desirable body rested on his buttocks. Alis was right, he decided. No more verbalization. Fully relaxed, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the marvelous air. Free of worry, his mind soared. Barely conscious, he floated in a slate of absolute bliss.

“Roll over,” murmured Alis, her voice fuzzy and indistinct, “Show me what a nice big boy you are.”

The nymph was stronger than she looked. Moaning in anticipation, she wrenched Jack over onto his back. Eyes closed, he vaguely sensed her large breasts pressed against his chest. Her long, very sexy tongue licked his left earlobe. The heat from her body enveloped him completely.

“Now, we’ll address a few of my questions,” she chuckled. Her hands roamed freely across Jack’s naked body. The nymph moaned in anticipation. “I think you’ll answer them in fine fashion. Just leave me in complete control, lover, and relax. I’ll do the asking from now on.”

Dreamily, Jack released his last hold on reality. And drifted into fantasy land.

Two hours later, Jack sat on the bed in his suite, describing his visit to Paradise to Cassandra.

“Then, after the birds departed with Candi to hunt for chocolate, you interviewed Alis and learned what you could about the sphinx,” said the Amazon.

“Right,” said Jack. He saw no reason to mention his own vague recollections of that session or the following half hour entirely missing from his memory. He remembered questioning the nymph while she massaged his back, then waking up from a sound sleep right before it was time to depart. He was sure there had been some talk about removing his shirt, but he and Alis were both fully dressed when he awoke. Shrugging his shoulders in dismissal of the whole incident, he continued.

“We made a deal right before I was rendered unconscious by sleeping gas for the elevator ride upward. The two nymphs agreed to meet us at a door to Paradise at six tonight. That’s when they get off work. Alis gave me her extra set of harem garb already. I concealed it under my shirt on the trip up. You can put it on before we leave. When we contact them later, she’ll have another outfit for Megan—to wear as a disguise once we set her free. The girls will also provide us with a key for the doors. Fortunately, one passkey fits every lock in Paradise.”