Direct Contact

by Ninette Swann

Her fingers traced the side of his jaw. “Of course, I hadn’t expected to like that nearly as much as I just did. Perhaps, I was too hasty in my anger at you calling me over here like a whore.”

  “You know I didn’t mean that. You had to know.”

  “I did, in a way. Or at least, I hoped. I’m no whore-for-hire, and a little warning would have gone a long way.” Her breath tickled his cheek as she leaned in toward him. “You know, I’ve always had a little crush on you, but George made it clear you were off limits.”

  “He did?” Malcolm straightened. “Why?”

  “He needs us,” she said simply, not elaborating. Doubt flashed across her face. “Maybe, he’s right. I probably shouldn’t be…so close to you.” Her eyes flickered downward to his lap where she was perched.

  At her words, Malcolm tightened his grip. “Oh, no,” he said. “If you feel the way I do, I’m not going to let a ghost—living or dead—keep you from me.”

  A torrent of emotion ran across her delicate features, and Malcolm waited, not moving into her but not allowing her to get up either. Finally, she seemed to reach a decision.

  “It’s not us being together that he’s against,” she said. “It’s the distraction it might become to the mission.”

  He wanted to ask what mission? But he wanted even more to kiss her again. So he did. Gently, he tilted up his head, moving his hand to the back of her neck where her hair brushed against it in tantalizing fashion. He deepened contact, his tongue a question on her lips. She said yes, opening just slightly, the taste of her obliterating conscious thought from his brain. Maybe, George had something there with the distraction thing. Malcolm brushed aside the nagging doubt and swooped her up into his arms, her light weight moving easily with him over to the bed.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered, laying her down. The silky fabric of her dress swooshed as the garment splayed beneath her body.

  She reached for him, bringing his ear to her lips. Her hot breath sent shivers down his spine.

  “Yes,” she replied then caught his earlobe in her teeth, sending shockwaves through to his fingertips.

  He groaned, easing his weight down over her, his hard cock pushing against his jeans and begging for release.

  Julie tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling it gently as she positioned him at the apex of her thighs. Her other hand trailed downward across his shoulders, past his back to cup his buttocks, rocking him into her. She let out a heady sigh of satisfaction that set his balls tingling. He kissed her hard on the lips, all the desire and need focusing on her sumptuous mouth, its yielding flesh driving him wild. When she again brushed her tongue into him, it wasn’t harsh or commanding, but soft and full of tempered lust. Her movements were slow and languid. They melted into each other, and one thought made its way through Malcolm’s addled brain. Too much clothing.

  He broke the kiss with reluctance, fumbling for the zipper at the back of her gown. Propping herself up on her elbows, she helped the garment slip down past her shoulders, then focused on him, sitting him up and pulling the hem of his T-shirt up over his abdomen and chest.

  Her breath released on a hitch. “I’m not the only one who works out,” she said in appreciation, nearly making Malcolm blush. The shirt flew over his head, landing unceremoniously in a heap on the floor beside them, and Julie trailed her fingers over the broad expanse of his chest, stroking the dark curls there, following them down and farther still, until her beautiful hands rested on the waistline of his jeans. The delicate touches were close to undoing him right then and there, and he brushed her aside.

  “I won’t last like this,” he said, his voice gruff with want. “Let me.”

  He stood, swiftly unbuttoning his pants then stepping out of them almost before they hit the ground. He moved around her and finished unzipping the gown. He pulled her to her feet and the fabric slid to her ankles, leaving her lacy black bra, black thong and black garters exposed.

  Malcolm took a step back to see the beauty in front of him, all soft skin and giving curves, her calves flexing on her high heels through the sheer nylons she wore. The black gauzy fabric gave way to starkly pale skin at her toned upper thighs.

  His erection strained, the moistened tip aching at the sight.

  She took him in her hand, rubbing him through his boxers, and the sound of her moan set his teeth in anticipation. He needed her. Now.

  He grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers to his lips, gently kissing the knuckles before slipping them into his mouth and suckling one by one. She tasted like honeydew melon, and he shivered before pushing her back to the bed.

  He settled on his knees between her long legs, pushing them outward around him. Her ankles clasped his lower back like a vise, and his need for her reached the breaking point. Not bothering to remove the scrap of fabric covering her core, he wrenched it to the side. The liquid fire that met his fingers nearly pushed him over the edge.

  “Julie…so wet.”

  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she said on a sob.

  He plunged a digit into her, her tight channel clenching around it, flexing and driving him mad. He couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Put it in me,” she whispered.

  With a growl of pure desire, he shut his eyes and thrust into her. He wanted to love her, to take her gently and wholly, but the fire running through his veins wouldn’t allow for tenderness. Again and again, he flexed his hips into her, the heat of her encompassing him entirely. He grabbed her, rocking her into him, and she shouted out, calling his name as she went over the edge. Her shuddering frame pushed him over after her, and he came hard, covering her panting mouth with his lips, groaning his lust into her as he shot stream after stream of cum into her.

  The fruity scent of her hair comforted him as he collapsed atop her. It made him feel as if he had found home. He turned his head to gaze at her beautiful features, her straight, small nose, nostrils still slightly flared, her high cheekbones, her almond-shaped dark eyes, the long lashes fluttering down as she caressed his shoulder with gentle touches.

  They stayed like that for long minutes, neither of them speaking, until Malcolm felt her begin to tense. To head off any guilt she might be feeling, he tried to make a joke.

  “Not even if I were made emperor, huh?” He smiled.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes in mock frustration, playfully hitting him in the chest. “Well, you know.”

  He laughed, and she snuggled into him, the pressure of her small frame feeling perfect against his body.

  She strained her neck to look at his bedside clock then jolted upright.

  “Shoot,” she said, “I have to go. I’ve got an early morning with Twenty-seven tomorrow, and the emperor will be meeting with Twenty-six.”

  She stood, and the absence of her warmth sent unwelcome chills through Malcolm’s being. He chastised himself. Julie had said he couldn’t become a distraction. A few fucks here and there between two people who were attracted to one another was one thing. Falling head over heels in love was another. He bit back the feelings and straightened.

  “Julie,” he said.

  She turned, sadness in her eyes, as she re-zipped her dress and prepared to leave. “Yes?”

  “What about the notes?”

  The sadness intensified before she gazed down at the floor. “Oh, right,” she replied, her tone cool. She leaned over him to whisper. “The answer is in the stars. Look to the stars.” She turned to leave then changed her mind and said more. “And do it quickly. I need his notes as much as you do, and I don’t have access to the wings in which they’re hidden. I’m counting on you. We all are.”

  She disappeared through the door in a swish of fabric, leaving Malcolm to figure out the puzzle himself.

  * * * *

  “Twenty-seven,” Julie barked, “wake up. We’ve got earlier mornings from here on out, and I’ll need you dressed and ready by five a.m. for the next two weeks.”

  When Anna raised her head, Julie’s heart broke a little fo
r the poor girl. She was about to have the worst two weeks of her life, and if they were all lucky, those weeks would stretch into the worst months of her life.

  “Julie, what are we—”

  She cut the girl off. “No time. Put your garb on, and we’re going to the baths.”

  Accustomed to doing what she was told, Anna acquiesced with no more questions.

  Julie tugged her along the still-darkened corridors to the familiar steam room. She mixed the herbs meant to cleanse Anna’s mind with her back to the girl. She gazed instead around the steamy room. Water vapor lingered from the previous night’s baths, and Julie interrupted her ritual to flip the switch, turning on the loud motors. Most baths were meant to weaken memory retention, quell rebellious, independent thought and “cleanse” the girls’ minds by opening them up to suggestions from the emperor. Conversely, this concoction George had taught Julie to make would do the opposite. The girl needed her full faculties to make a clear decision. She needed to understand the gravity of the mission they were about to undertake. If Anna—Julie couldn’t help but call the girl by the name Malcolm had given her—didn’t want this for herself and for the world, they couldn’t in good conscience make her help them. Julie hoped the girl would choose freedom. Of all the current Special Ones, Anna held the most promise for leadership and insights.

  “This is going to be a bit different,” Julie said. “Do not be afraid. Open your mind and your spirit to what comes.”

  “Julie, is this…” Anna paused. “Did the emperor order this?”

  “That’s not your business,” Julie said sharply, guilt and trepidation washing over her. She hoped they were doing the right thing. “The emperor is meeting with Twenty-six in an hour’s time. He’ll meet with you next week.” Julie paused. She turned to look the girl in the face, Anna’s childlike features made even more innocent in the gauzy air. “Do you trust me?”

  Anna nodded. “Of course.”

  “Good,” Julie replied. “Then fully trust me. You have a grave choice on the horizon. These treatments will help you make your decision with the background information the others did not have the luxury of receiving.”

  “What do you mean? The other girls?” Anna shivered.

  Julie nodded. Anna knew the price for being a Special One. Should the serum fail, she would die. The girl had told Julie she had made peace with that long ago, being bred to understand her fate and acknowledge the honor of dying for her master. One had to be special to be chosen to carry the seed. Anna would live up to her duty. None of that changed the fact that they both knew. Anna could very well be dead in two weeks’ time.

  “Yes, the other girls. A few chose our path on their own,” Julie answered. “The others perished, despite our efforts to save them.” She blanched at the lie. It was too soon to reveal the girls’ true fates.

  “Who do you mean by our?” Anna asked, the steam clearly starting to overcome her senses.

  “Never you mind. You’ll find out soon enough. The scientist has faith in you. Of all the girls, perhaps you really are the Special One.”

  “I hope so,” Anna answered by rote, her face displaying her dishonesty.

  As she mixed the concoctions, Julie’s thoughts flickered back to Malcolm’s dark, honest face. So resolute despite the fear in his eyes. That’s what had drawn Julie to him in the first place, that look. When he’d focused his brown gaze on her the first time he’d expressed doubt in Terrecina’s system, she had had to grip the underside of her seat to stem the wave of compassion and desire washing over her. George had been right to warn her away from Malcolm.

  “Malcolm is a good boy, a strong soul, but he’ll fall for you, no doubt,” George had said. “And should anything go wrong, I don’t want there to be feelings between you. I don’t want either of you in the position where you have to choose yourselves or the mission. What we’re doing is too important.”

  At the time, she’d merely nodded, having yet to meet Malcolm. Sure, the man was cute from afar, but she had inwardly laughed at George for thinking her so weak. She knew enough not to get emotionally involved. Now, she wondered if she had been gravely, gravely wrong.

  By all rights, she should have been hopping mad at Malcolm’s callous display of misogyny. The nerve of him calling her to his room like a common prostitute was made all the worse by the fact that it was neatly documented in Michelle’s book. Julie, Malcolm’s little call girl. Surely, he could have come up with a more dignified way for them to meet.

  Still, when she found herself face to face with the man, her anger had dissipated, dissolved, even as she had tried to cling to it. And when she’d stormed over to him, she hadn’t meant to kiss him. She’d had every intention of giving him a piece of her mind and possibly a slap. But the scent of him had overwhelmed her, and her body had taken over, all the tension and fear in her seeking release and comfort. The desire she’d kept hidden had surfaced in the basest of ways.

  She blushed thinking of it, thinking of his lean body over her, the sensations of his thrusting cock deep into her. George had done well to warn her. She had a feeling, though, she would end up ignoring him. She finished her mixing and dragged herself from the uncomfortable yet heady thoughts.

  “Drink this,” she said, “if you dare. This concoction will open your eyes to the myths of Terrecina. The images will be violent and draining.” She paused then gave Anna another vial. “If you do not dare, drink this one instead. This is the cleansing mixture of the baths you are used to.”

  Anna weighed the two liquids in her hands, and Julie held her breath.

  “Julie?” Anna asked.

  “Yes, child?”

  “What does ‘under the stars’ mean?”

  Julie smiled wanly. Malcolm’s meld with the girl was strong. “It means you of all the girls have a shot of making it through what is bound to come alive. Choose well.”

  Chapter Four

  Malcolm awoke no closer to a solution or to knowing what in the hell Julie was talking about. He tossed about in bed for a while, dreading the day’s work, which would include prepping Twenty-six for her meeting with the emperor, from his scientific distance, of course. Direct contact was forbidden. Still, he had to speak with her, make sure she was mentally prepared for what may lay ahead for her. He’d go over the responses she should give during the interview process and make sure she understood exactly what would happen on her twenty-first birthday so there would be no fear, only acceptance and duty. And if he did his job well, joy.

  He stared up at the ceiling, at a loss, chasing away visions of Julie’s body writhing beneath his just hours before. He had to think of the day, not of the stolen hours that would likely never occur again.

  A twinkling above him caught his eye as the morning sunlight streamed through his windows. Even hindered by the elaborate glass dome set above the entirety of Terrecina, the sun’s rays were bright, almost harsh. They illuminated the makeshift map of constellations George had fashioned over his bed when he was a student. To remind him that more to life existed than Terrecina. Even if this world perished entirely, there would always be the stars.

  The stars.

  He jolted out of bed.

  Balancing himself unsteadily on the springy surface of the old mattress, Malcolm craned his next and reached up one arm to the ceiling. He could just barely reach the constellations hanging from his ceiling. But just barely was enough. His fingers brushed over the hard, smooth surfaces of each star. He pressed and stroked, working the materials to no effect.

  After ten minutes, his head pounded with lack of oxygen, and his arm felt afire from being stretched above him for so long. He sat on the bed in a bounce of defeat, steadying his heartbeat and collecting his breath. It was almost time to go back to the old office. Twenty-six’s meeting would take place in less than two hours now. Malcolm ran a hand through his black hair, which was getting a bit long. He made a note to get it cut soon. He had never liked the way it waved and shagged around his ears when the thick strands
grew too much.

  He shrugged on a white, long-sleeved T-shirt, threw on some jeans and pulled on his oldest and most worn-in boots. It was bound to be a long day; he might as well be comfortable.

  He grabbed his keys from the bedside table and gave the structure on the ceiling one last glance before turning to leave. As he reached the door, something made him turn back. He walked back to his bed and studied the constellations. Something was off, something was wrong, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  He went over each grouping of stars. Orion, Cassiopeia, the Big Bear, the Little Bear—wait, right there. The Little Dipper was missing its handle, the one little star that would normally hang at a slight diagonal from the straight line of the rest of the ladle. Why?

  He stepped back onto his bed, boots and all, and pushed around the area of the missing star. The tile was rough against his fingers. As he moved his hand in a circular motion, he found a tiny smooth patch, not visible to his eyes. It led a path to the end of the tile, to the plastic casing that separated each square. He slid his digits between the ceiling material and its border, and it gave just a millimeter. Try as he might, he couldn’t get it to budge farther without breaking the tile and causing suspicion should anyone visit his quarters. He stepped back down, his keys jingling from within his right back pocket, giving him an idea. Back up on the bed, keys in hand, he swept the thin, pointy edge of one of them under the border…and he hit something hard. It moved an inch or so but would not ease itself out of its spot. Then it stuck where it was, and he couldn’t pry it away.

  Pushing one hand against the ceiling tile, he managed to raise it just a few millimeters, but it was enough. He held his arm in that position, though it was cramping, and swiped his keys through again. A rectangular object flew out of the crack where it had been wedged, and clattered on the floor across the room. Malcolm jumped off the bed and got down on hands and knees, spotting the small key immediately. He slipped it into his pocket and looked up at the clock.

  The minutes were ticking by. He needed to go before he was missed and the emperor sent guards to see what was keeping him. Suddenly, Malcolm had new lunch plans and only an hour to figure out how to put them to use.