Inn on the Edge

by Gail Bridges

  “There’s a reading room?” said Nikki.

  My audience fell silent but for some wet kissy sounds. I mixed a pea-sized dot of the Ultramarine Blue into a puddle of Cadmium Yellow, then crouched before the lower left corner of my mural to create a cluster of waving, flowing dune grass.

  “Hey,” said Josh to the group at large, “has anyone noticed something?”

  I turned from my painting, curious.

  “I notice lots of things, honey,” said Zenith.

  Josh laughed. “Ummm. Well. I’m sure you do.” His heel thumped the floor, rat-a-tat-tat. He shifted position, pulling away from Zenith, and the words fell from him in a rush. “Like I said, I just noticed something about myself. It was so cool. Unreal. I could hardly believe it.” He looked at me. “Angie, yesterday during the calling card game, when me and Nikki and Vane were fooling around…I had a multiple apex! I swear it! Three apexes, one right after another, just like you always describe.” His face glowed. “It was…oh my god, it was amazing. I thought my heart might stop, it was so intense.”

  “Hey, me too!” said Geoffrey. “I had one of those too.”

  Tim spoke up. “Is that what that was?”

  Josh grinned. “Fucking right.”

  “I noticed something else too,” said Geoffrey, “How about recovery time between partners? Totally reduced to—what, five minutes? Just give me five minutes and I’m good to go again.”

  “Less than that,” said Josh.

  “Much less,” agreed Tim.

  “Three minutes,” said Josh.

  “Two,” said Tim, grinning.

  “How does he do it?” said Josh. “How does Mr. Abiba make it possible for men to have multiple apexes?”

  “Hmm,” said Tim.

  “It’s the food,” said Geoffrey slowly.

  “No, it’s Zettia’s tea,” said Nikki. “I’m pretty sure it’s the tea.”

  “I think it’s all of it,” said Josh. “The food and the tea both. You know how they pump it into us.”

  I spoke up. “The food must have something to do with it. Just look at our conduct during meals. Apexing at the breakfast table? Goodness gracious!” I smiled, knowing I sounded like Mr. Abiba. “What wanton behavior—and I mean you, Tim!”

  Everyone laughed good-naturedly. Geoffrey gave him a playful punch in the arm.

  “Think about it. We’re all screwing everything in sight,” added Josh, serious, when the room quieted again, “and it doesn’t strike us as out of the ordinary. We think nothing of it.”

  “Mmm,” murmured Nikki, “I think about it all the time.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Josh. He narrowed his eyes and turned around to better see Nikki where she still lounged against the wall. “Hey. Nikki. Wanna fuck?”

  Everyone laughed. Even me. Because it was true. We were fucking everything in sight and thinking nothing of it. Nor did we want to.

  “Let’s not forget the Tools,” said Geoffrey, changing the subject. “They’re special.”

  “They’re magical,” said Nikki.

  “As in real magic?” said Josh, “Ha. That’s ridiculous!”

  Nikki snorted. “Fine, fine. But we aren’t imagining it. So tell me, Josh—what makes the Tools work?”

  A pause.

  “I have no idea, really,” said Josh, sounding baffled.

  Tim tried next. “Maybe our heightened sexual stamina is because of the ambience of the inn. Or because we’re all newlyweds. I know I was dying for a nice roll in the hay before we even got here.”

  “Me too,” said Nikki, “I wanted a good screwing, that’s for sure.”

  “A good screwing?” A new voice spoke up from the doorway. It was Logan. “That’s exactly what you got, Nikki, wife of mine! A damn good screwing. And after that, you got a damn fine roll in the hay.”

  “I remember,” said Nikki. “Oh yes. I do.”

  Logan came all the way in. Waved at me. “Hey, Running Deer! Seen any tumbleweeds lately?”

  I left off working on long blades of dune grass. “Outlaw! Did we tell everyone that you won me in a game of dice?” I waved the green-tinted brush at him. “Yikes. You don’t still own me, do you?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Back to the question. Logan, join in if you want.” He took a deep breath. “We’re wondering about this place. What’s going on here? This sex-all-the-time thing? The multiple-apex thing? I know I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Is it magic, like Nikki said? Or is it something simple, that anyone could do with enough training? Are we learning about something that was always there, within us? Are we discovering a heightened awareness of our bodies? Because that’s what I think.”

  “Deep,” said Logan. “That’s some deep shit there.”

  I busied myself with mixing a new color, trying to ignore the rush of heat that ran through me at the sound of Geoffrey’s deep voice. And Logan’s. And from watching Josh with Zenith.

  “Yeah,” agreed Tim, “Heightened awareness. That sounds about right.”

  “Nope. I still think it’s magic,” mumbled Nikki.

  “You’re all missing the point!” I said, giving up on any pretense of painting. “I think our successes are due to constant practice with our Guides. Our exquisitely talented Guides. Where would we be without them?”

  Everyone fell silent, considering what I’d said.

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Tim, “but I think it’s more than that.”

  I nodded. “Maybe it is. Zenith? Will you elaborate?”

  We all turned to her, expectant.

  Zenith took her hair in her hands and held it in a loose ponytail that fell over her shoulder. She began to speak, slowly, carefully, as if she were skirting around a delicate issue. “Will you believe I don’t know much more than you? It’s true. I don’t. The other Guides and me, we’re taught the correct usage of the Tools, and how to teach them to you. Our job is to help you get the most from them. And to get the most from within yourselves. And of course to keep Mr. Abiba happy. Do you see? We’re highly trained in certain things…”

  She took a deep breath.

  We waited, spellbound.

  “But not in others. We know how to use the Tools, but we have no idea what they are. Or what makes them work.”

  “They’re amazing, though,” said Geoffrey quietly. “And so are you.”

  She nodded, gazing at my mural—at the lighthouse, maybe. Then she turned to Geoffrey, a smile in her voice. “Thank you, honey. That means a lot to me. Zora and I, and Vane and Valerian—we’ve each been through unbelievably intense training.” She fell silent for a moment, leaving the rest of us to wonder what unbelievably intense sexual training, as taught by Mr. Adi Abiba, might look like.

  I shuddered.

  Then she spoke in a much softer tone. “Mr. Abiba makes sure we Guides have the proper mindset…and the sexual ability…and the emotional flexibility…to help our clients experience the best sexual intercourse possible. The absolute, without a doubt, most mind-blowing sex of your lives. And to share it freely and generously. That’s what he asks of each of us when it comes down to it. Understand?”

  We nodded, entranced. I’m sure every one of us wanted to make love to her at that moment. Freely and generously.

  She let go of her hair, and it sprang out of the ponytail, thick and shining. “That’s it. He doesn’t tell us how he does any of it. Or how anything works. Your guess is as good as mine when it comes to the Tools. And Mr. Abiba? He’s an enigma, even to me.”

  “But is it…magic?” Nikki asked. “I really want it to be magic.”

  “There is magic here, yes. But I have no idea if it’s the kind you’re thinking of, sweetie.”

  Nikki took Tim’s hand. “I’m tired of standing. Let’s join them on the mat?”

  Josh and Zenith and Geoffrey made space for them, and then for Logan too. All six of them—my husband, my friends, my lovers—squeezed together, their arms and legs intertwin
ed, crowding good-naturedly onto a single oversized mat. I stared at them, my paint brush frozen in midair, still mulling over Zenith’s words.

  Magic.

  Could it be? Zenith hadn’t exactly ruled it out.

  Then I forgot about magic and heightened awareness and mind-blowing sexual intercourse and took in the scene developing on the floor in front of me. A people-pile! Like the cat-piles my four cats used to make, back when I still had four cats. I watched for a long moment, transfixed. How delightful, how adorable, the way Josh and the others were carrying on! I couldn’t drag my eyes away. Why not take a break from my beach mural and paint this erotic little tableau? I squinted at the people-pile, already composing in my mind, already selecting colors, already knowing which brushes I would grab. I could use a bit of amusement.

  Besides, Mr. Abiba would love it.

  I lugged drop cloth and brushes and paint tubes and palette to the opposite side of the room. Chose the wall I would paint on. Peered at the people-pile through my fingers. Stepped four paces to the right to get a better view. Then, humming, I began to paint.

  “Nobody move,” I said a minute later.

  But they did. Of course they did. Making my job especially hard.

  They just wouldn’t stay in one place. The people-pile shifted and writhed and squirmed, a different composition every time I glanced up. Josh and Geoffrey, kissing. Nikki and Zenith, hands exploring inside each other’s clothing. Tim and Nikki, dry humping, then throwing off their clothes and humping for real. Logan, masturbating. Josh, pulling down his pants to reveal a shapely erection. Josh, fucking Zenith. Then Zenith, her gorgeous ass in the air, fucking Josh. My goodness, but they were having a fine time.

  “Join us?” invited Zenith breathlessly, gazing back at me over her shoulder.

  “Can’t. Working,” I said, adding a line here and a bit of shading there. “Try to be still, won’t you?”

  Considering how uncooperative my subjects were, the painting came together surprisingly well. I brushed in the strong line of Tim’s shoulders and back, and the softer contours of Geoffrey giving him a blowjob. I shaded Zenith’s cascading hair and the bit of visible floor mat, put in a hint of background. Corrected colors here and there. Added a light source. Refined Logan’s skin color. Put a glint of Quinacridone Gold in Josh’s eye. And then—in only forty-three minutes—it was done.

  I stepped around the people-pile to get a longer view from the other side of the room. I studied my new painting, narrowing my eyes, tilting my head, pursing my lips. This painting was good. Very good. Perhaps it was the best of all the wall paintings. Since when had I painted so quickly? So masterfully?

  Perhaps I was a natural at this too.

  “Take a look, everyone. See? You bunch look like you’re having an orgy! How funny is that?”

  Nobody answered. Too busy having thebest sex possible.

  I grabbed a lukewarm cup of Zettia’s tea, drank it in a single swig, and, still humming under my breath, went back to putting the last touches on my giant landscape. The dune grass was finished, so I turned my attention to the clouds. There were dozens of them. Filling the sky and fading into the distance, looking just as they had when Josh and I had driven along the ocean on our way to the inn. With my too-small brush, I painted dark underbellies and white edges, clouds pregnant with rain, wispy clouds drifting in the wind. Time passed and I barely noticed.

  I was happy. Happier than I’d ever been in my life.

  “Angie?”

  It was an hour later, perhaps. I turned around at Zenith’s voice. The people-pile had shrunk by three, and I hadn’t noticed a thing. Tim had left. And Logan. Josh was gone—practicing his borrowed guitar, I assumed. Geoffrey and Nikki were dozing, cuddled tightly together, their backs to me. It was just Zenith and me.

  “Angie…” Zenith said again, softly.

  “Mmm-hmm?” I mumbled, looking directly at her but seeing sky and water and clouds.

  “Do you like it here?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and putting her arms around them. Her Burnt Sienna hair cascaded down her back. “Do you like it here?”

  What kind of question was that?

  “Sure I do,” I said, frowning. “What’s not to like? Why do you ask?”

  She sighed. “It’s nothing, really.” She took a strand of hair and drew her fingers through it, over and over. I couldn’t take my eyes away. “It’s just that…”

  I waited. My eyes following the movement of her hand. I stood still, thinking, I wonder if she’ll let me do her portrait now.

  “Mr. Abiba, he likes you.”

  I flushed. “I know.”

  “A lot. More than everyone else.”

  “Yeah.”

  She regarded me. “Angie,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the closed door to the Fine Arts Room, “that’s not always a good thing.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “His love can have…serious consequences.”

  “But he’s been so kind!”

  She sighed. “He can be kind. But there’s another side to him.”

  I turned my back to her for a moment, scumbling a tiny amount of Cobalt Blue onto the heavy, dark underbelly of a cloud. Another side to Mr. Abiba? Did he have an underbelly, like the cloud I was working on? If he did have an ugly side—and something told me Zenith was right—I didn’t want to think about it. It made me uncomfortable. Challenging Mr. Abiba led to places I’d rather not go. When Nikki had said something about him yesterday, I’d changed the subject, and quickly, because somehow Mr. Abiba knew things. He was aware of everything that went on in his inn.

  But this was Zenith. She wouldn’t lead me into trouble. I smeared a thin line of paint onto the edge of the cloud, then turned to face her. “But I thought you adored him.”

  “I do. I do! But sometimes…”

  I set down my brush. “Sometimes what, Zenith?”

  “Sometimes he frightens me. A lot.” Her voice lowered so much I barely heard it. “So much that sometimes—I can’t believe I’m telling you this—sometimes I just about pee my pantsfrom the fright.” She looked up, met my eyes. “But then it passes and I think I’m nuts. Am I nuts, Angie?”

  We’re all but slaves, Valerian had said.

  I went to her. I sat down next to her, put my arms around her, kissed her pale cheek, buried my face in her hair and held her slim, elegant hand in my own—the hand that had made such beautiful love to me. I twined my fingers in hers. “No,” I whispered, “you’re not crazy.”

  “Then you’ve felt it too?”

  “I think so. Maybe. There was something weird during the calling card game.”

  We sat like that, rocking gently, listening to Geoffrey’s gentle snores.

  She put her cool palm flat against my cheek. “You’re in danger. He wants you. And what he wants, he gets.”

  I ran my hand over her shoulder, down her back.

  “Listen to me, Angie.”

  I reached under her shirt and cupped her small breast in my hand. “I am.”

  “Are you? The last woman he loved went over the edge.”

  I didn’t move for a long moment. Then I took her nipple between my fingers and thumb, rolling it gently. “The one Josh’s song reminded him of? Her?”

  Zenith’s eyes were darker than I’d thought. And anxious. “I don’t know. Maybe. Zora told me about it. Zora’s been here longer than I have—she knows more than I do, but I don’t think even Zora knows much. And we can’t ask Zettia.” Zenith arched her back at my renewed ministrations to her nipple, or perhaps it was the fingers of my other hand working their way between her legs. She straightened her knees. Spread them for me. “Oh, that feels nice, Angie!” She closed her eyes, took a long, shuddering breath. “I shouldn’t be talking to you like this. Really I shouldn’t. I’ll probably regret it…”

  I kissed her again.

  He loves me, I thought.

  He chose me.
>
  “Zenith,” I whispered, “It’s later.”

  She stared at me, uncomprehending.

  “Later,” I repeated.

  A smile teased the side of her mouth.

  “You promised me. Remember?” I pulled her down onto the bare floor—no room on the mat—and kissed her. I brushed the hair from her face. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful about Mr. Abiba,” I said. Then I began to practice my newly acquired sexual prowess on her, as if she were a finely wrought antique instrument and I were a maestro musician. We made fine music together. This time, I was the one who sent her into throes of ecstasy.

  I was learning. Oh yes, I surely was.

  And, some time later, after Nikki had woken up and joined us, near the end of our delicious three-way, all-girl lovemaking, running riot through my head like a stuck song as I enjoyed my own delicious four apexes in a row, the words…

  He loves me, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me…

  He loves me!

  It scared the living shit out of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Mr. Abiba loves me,” I whispered to Josh.

  We were in bed, alone for the first time in…well, I didn’t know how long. It was late. 2:30 in the morning, maybe later. Dinner was long over. My glorious hours of painting were long over. It was just the two of us, lying in each other’s arms, sleepy and satiated, our genitals coated with liberal applications of Mr. Abiba’s special salve, coming down from yet another shatteringly exquisite Lesson with Vane.

  We’d explored a new Tool, the French Connection.

  Ah. Those Tools.

  They just kept getting better and better. The worlds they created seemed so real. This time Josh, Vane and I had fucked our way through Paris. We’d made love with wild abandon on the viewing platform at the top of the Eiffel Tower, had oral sex in the nave of Notre Dame Cathedral, had a delicious three-way in the Louvre, and that had been only the beginning. Through it all, there had been coaching from our wonderful, gentle Guide. New positions. New moves. Something called the Gateway to Paradise. And at the end, a difficult erotic sequence called a Nerve Engager, performed by us both in careful tandem on our guinea-pig Guide. Our first attempt with the Nerve Engager had earned us shouted compliments from a wildly apexing Vane, which made Josh and me quiver with pride.