Diamond Star (21 page)

Del laughed softly. "What an image." He bent his head and kissed her.

Damn that felt good. Then Ricki remembered herself and pulled her head away. "Keep that pouting mouth to yourself."

He gave her his bedroom smile. "You love me, Ricki. Admit it."

"I most certainly do not love you." Crossing her arms, she made a bulwark between them.

"Come on," Del murmured as he pulled apart her arms. "You're driving me insane."

"You weren't already there?" she asked sweetly.

Del laughed and kissed her again, sliding one arm around her waist and pulling her against him while he caressed her breast.

"Oh!" The startled voice came from across the studio.

Del looked around, his eyes half-closed. Ricki thought she ought to fire whoever had walked in.

Bonnie, the tech girl, was standing just inside the room, her face bright red. "I'm s-sorry," she said. "Cameron said you were up here. We were ready to go."

Blast it. If an award existed for bad timing, this girl could win it. Ricki spoke under her breath. "Del, let go of me."

After a moment, Del released her and stepped away. To Bonnie, he said, "I thought Cameron was downstairs."

"He's just outside," Bonnie said.

"Oh." Del seemed at a loss for a response.

Ricki regarded Del, intrigued. "Everywhere you go, Cameron goes."

"He's my babysitter," Del grumbled. "Mac hired him to make sure I don't get lost or whatever. I've only been on Earth a few weeks, and I can't read or write English."

Interesting. Ricki glanced at Bonnie. "Thanks, hon. Tell Cameron he can go home. I'll make sure Del doesn't get into trouble." At least, no trouble that didn't involve her.

The girl glanced from Ricki to Del as if she thought the greatest danger to Del was in this room. But she had enough sense to keep her thoughts to herself. She said only, "I'll tell him."

As Bonnie disappeared through the holo-curtain, Ricki slipped away from Del. "Come on," she said. "The night's hardly started." When he reached for her arm, she stepped away. "Oh no," she murmured. "You have to work for it."

His gaze smoldered. "Don't push me, Ricki." A wicked smile played around his lips. "Or I'll have to take steps."

"Do tell." Goodness, he was hot tonight. "And where might that little walk lead you?"

"Be careful what you ask." He started toward her. "Or you'll get the answer."

"Is that so?" She flicked off the control panel. "Go get that hot leather jacket of yours. We're going to a party."

Del couldn't absorb all the sensory input. It was too much. They had arrived at a penthouse in some tower he didn't know. The place glittered even in the dim lights. It was full of people in sparkling clothes, at least what little they wore. Lights strobed, but none bright enough to light the corners of the room. It gave the place a sultry, erotic feel.

"Over here," Ricki said, pulling him by the hand.

Del went with her, disoriented. The smell of spiker sticks saturated the air. Unease rippled over him. Spikers weren't one of the drugs his doctors said would make the meds in his body go crazy, but he could never be sure what would happen.

They ended up near a tall table filled with blue and purple glow tubes. A cluster of people had gathered around it, gleaming with the sleek elegance of those who had too much money to spend and too much time to spend it in, but who hadn't yet become jaded beyond caring how they looked.

"It's the principle of it," a woman was saying. Red holo studs glinted in her cobalt hair. "If you let anyone say whatever they want on the meshes, you'll have anarchy."

"Anarchy?" another woman said. "It's called free speech!"

"You have to draw a line between free and libelous," a man said. Laser-tattoos of blue snakes glowed on his cheeks. "It isn't 'free' if people are so intimidated by mesh attacks, they fear to speak."

"But who decides where you draw that line?" the first woman said. "You? Me? The government?"

"Mesh worlds form their own dynamic," another man said. "The group decides what rules they want. If you don't like their rules, join another m-world."

"So if a group decides to suppress the speech of others, that's all right?" the tattooed man demanded. "Hey, I could get people to follow you around the meshes and come down like ten tons of plutonium every time you say something I don't like. I'm exercising my right to free speech--and denying you yours."

A dark-haired man with no tattoos, holos, or jewelry spoke quietly. "Your 'free' speech is decided by whoever has power on the meshes. The more time you spend in the m-universe, the more people know about you. And the more they know, the more they can affect your life."

Del started. The man had a
Skolian
accent.

Ricki spoke under her breath. "This is boring." She drew him away from the group. "I hate politics. It gives me croup."

Del agreed wholeheartedly. At least, he thought he did. "What's croup?"

"I've no idea what it means," she admitted. "Just that it's vile and unpleasant."

He gave a wry laugh. "Sounds accurate to me." Curious, he said, "Who was that last man who spoke? He sounded Skolian."

"He is. That's Staver Aunchild. He's a buyer for one of the Metropoli entertainment conglomerates. He decides which of our acts he wants to sell to his people." She arched an eyebrow at him. "You ever get big enough, they might look at you. But sweets, you aren't there yet. Not by a long shot."

Well, that was tactful. "Maybe never."

"I didn't say you couldn't. Just that you need time."

Del found it hard to imagine people would ever like his music enough even just to send it offworld, let alone to his own people.

Ricki took him to table with purple light-tubes where several people were sitting on tall chairs. A man with spiky blue hair puffed on a stick that spiraled red smoke into the air. The woman next to him had long black hair, purple eye shadow, and no clothes except jewel-encrusted chains that barely covered her curvaceous hips and large breasts. An older man sat on her other side, sleek and dangerous in an elegant business suit. His wrist-mesh looked as if it cost more than this tower. He had draped his arm over her shoulders, and his predatory gaze was fixed on her breasts, which were trying to burst out of her chains.

"Hey, babe," the man with blue hair said to Ricki.

"Hey." Ricki pushed Del toward a chair and slid into another one. "How's the thorn kicking?"

"Here." Blue-hair offered her the stick. "Like your heels."

Del sat in the chair, wondering how they could speak English and say nothing he understood. Spiker smoke thickened the air, making him dizzy, and the drugged mood of all these glimmering people penetrated his mental shields. So much bare skin. In one corner, a man and woman swayed together, arms wrapped around each other as they unfastened their scanty clothes. Del blushed and looked away. Then he stared at Ricki and wondered if this place had any bedrooms.

"You look hungry," Ricki murmured. "Later, sweets."

"He
is
sweet, isn't he?" Blue-hair purred.

Del jerked around to stare at the man. "What?"

"Hands off," Ricki told Blue-hair. "No poaching." She took a long drag on the spiker, held it in, and then let glinting red smoke trickle past her red lips. It swirled around her and up to the ceiling. The mega-wealthy executive was ignoring them as he whispered in the ear of the other woman and caressed her breasts.

Ricki handed the spiker to Blue-hair and tilted her head at Del. "He's a farm boy. Del Arden."

Blue-hair leaned closer to Del. "Oh, Ricki dear, where
did
you find him?"

"Why don't you ask me?" Del said coldly. He didn't like the way the guy stared at Ricki. Or at him. He couldn't focus; he felt drilled without taking a single drag of the spiker.

Ricki wasn't paying attention; she was watching the dancers swaying. "Lot of heft tonight."

"The usual." Blue-hair regarded Del as if he were some exotic delicacy. "And then some."

Del stared at him, then swung around to the person who had dragged him into this crazy place. "
Ricki
--"

"Shhh." She put her hand on his arm. "You want a drink?"

"No." Del couldn't breathe. "I'm tired. Let's go."

Blue-hair offered him the spiker. "Here, relax, babe. It's top of the line, straight from the Antarian colony."

Babe?
Del wanted to punch him, but instead his fingers closed around the spiker. Smoke curled past his face, adding a red cast to the scene. The executive was tugging the chains off the girl, and Del stared at her erect nipples.

"Here." Ricki pushed the spiker to his lips. "Just inhale. It will do the rest."

"No! I don't want--" Del choked as smoke poured into his mouth. He gulped involuntarily and breathed in a lungful. When he coughed, the spiker fell from his fingers.

"Hey!" Blue-hair grabbed the stick. "Tell your boy-toy to be careful with that."

"Don't call me that," Del snarled at him.

Ricki slid off her chair and tugged Del off his. The others at the table also got to their feet. The girl's chains slid down her body and pooled in a pile of jeweled gold on the floor. She stood there, sleek and perfect, wearing nothing but a few strategically placed jewels around her hips, her eyes so dilated, she almost had no irises.

"Come on, babe," Ricki murmured, pulling him by the hand.

Del went where she pulled, too muzzy to think. Blue-hair appeared at his side and put his arm around Del's shoulders.

"Hey!" Del shoved him away. "Drill off."

"He's an arrow," Ricki told Blue-hair. "They don't fly any straighter. You won't get this one."

"Too bad." Blue-hair went ahead of them to join the girl and the executive, who was walking on her other side with his arm around her shoulders. Blue-hair put his arm around her waist and kissed her ear.

"Ricki, let's go," Del said. His words echoed in his ears.

"Here." She set her finger on his lips. "Isn't this better?"

"What?" He looked around, his gaze blurred, trying to figure out what she meant. They were in a different room, one with dimly glowing walls and no other light. Or furniture. The thick carpet came over the toes of his boots. Pillows, glimmering sheets, and leather toys were strewn around. The executive pulled the chain-girl into a nest of cushions, and Blue-hair sat with them, still smoking his spiker.

Ricki nudged Del. "Come on."

"Ricki, no," Del said. "I don't do this." He wasn't even sure what exactly he didn't do, but he had no doubt that whatever it was, this room included a lot of it.

"You'll be fine," she said, her voice silken. She tugged him forward, and he stumbled, then went down on one knee next to the naked girl and the executive.

Blue-hair offered Del the spiker. "Takes the edge off."

Del tried to push away the man's hand, but he missed and fell against Ricki, who had knelt at his other side. They sprawled in a pile on the cushions, landing partially on top of the purple eye-shadow girl. Her breast rubbed Del's cheek, and before he even thought about it, he pulled her nipple into his mouth and suckled. So sweet.

The executive was lying against the girl's other side, but he stopped caressing her long enough to lean over and kiss Ricki. Lifting his head, Del scowled at the exec. He could barely see, and he couldn't think, except that he wanted Ricki
out
of her clothes, and if that rich asshole touched her again, Del would flatten his face.

By the time Del separated Ricki from her clingy tunic and tights, he wasn't wearing anything, either. She lay under him, the two of them nestled against the others. When she tried to pull him closer, he held her down by the shoulders.

"Patience, love," Del murmured.

She was breathing hard. "Kiss me, you sexy bastard."

A slow smile spread on his face. "You have to wait for it."

She stared up at him with those huge eyes as if she was an innocent, but with his shields weakened by his spiker high, he easily felt her mind. She was so turned on, she was close to an orgasm. Del flipped her onto her stomach and stretched out on top of her, biting her neck. Then he lifted her hips up and thrust into her from behind. She groaned and clenched the pillow under her, her pulse speeding up even more. She was building, higher, higher--and just as she was about to explode, he stopped, holding up her hips.

"
No.
" She could barely get the word out, she was breathing so hard. "Don't
do
this to me again." She groaned and writhed in his hold. "I'll go crazy."

Del pinned her wrists to the floor while he slowly pulled out of her. "You shouldn't disappear in the morning. You didn't even leave a note. Now you have to pay."

"Stop teasing me."

"You're going to scream for it," he whispered against her ear. He pulled her arms over her head and held them trapped with one hand while he stroked her sides and breasts with his other, keeping her on the edge of an orgasm while she struggled. Then he slowly brought her down from her peak. When she had calmed a little, he entered her again, restarting the cycle, bringing her back up. He was aware of the other three making love, and their desire added to his own, their combined arousal drugging his mind as much as the spiker drugged his body. Ricki moaned under him, her mind a blur of frustrated, urgent hunger.

Del kept her that way, on and on, tormenting her with pleasure, until neither of them could take any more. He let go then, thrusting harder until she screamed with her climax. As ecstasy burst over him, his conscience reeled, but he was too far gone to care.

Del woke up alone. No, not alone; the purple eye-shadow girl was sleeping nearby. She looked lovely as long as he stayed still. When he moved, the room blurred and dimmed, and nausea surged in him. With a groan, he clambered to his feet, desperate to find a bathroom before he embarrassed himself.

The first door he stumbled through let him into an empty bedroom. He staggered across its green carpet into a bathroom. Dropping to his knees, he leaned over the washbasin and vomited his last meal. Then he flushed the basin and sat on his knees, shaking and chilled. He scared himself. Spikers didn't make people throw up.