Immersed in Pleasure (3 page)

“Asshole,” Mark interjected. “You could have told us.”

“Seriously,” Derek said, “I shouldn’t even be telling you this much. Nobody wants to get on Kingsley Edge’s shit list.”

“Bad list to be on, I hear,” Christian agreed.

“Look—do you want to hear the story or not?” Derek demanded.

“Does it get better? The only sex in it so far was with Ireland and even then you left the good parts out.”

“There were no good parts with Ireland. But yes, it gets better. And weirder. And yeah, there’s definitely more sex.”

Derek remembered the next day after meeting Xenia and the impossibility of concentrating on work. The hours crawled by and it seemed to take ten years to get to night again. He showered, changed into black slacks and a black button-down. At eleven o’clock he returned to Cirque du Nuit and took the stairwell down to Fathoms.

Finding a seat at the lavish bar, Derek ordered a drink and toyed with it as he watched for Xenia. Finally he saw her slip out of one of the smaller pools and position herself on a rock next to a table. He could only stare at her glistening body as she tucked her silvery feet to the side and chatted with one of Fathoms’s many preposterously wealthy patrons.

He tried to catch her eye but had no luck. Almost despairing of his inability to talk to her, Derek debated whether he should leave or stay.

“Welcome back, Monsieur Prince.”

Derek turned around and saw Kingsley standing behind him. Tonight he wore a slightly more modern suit—black Armani—and his hair down instead of back in last night’s ponytail. A well-named man, he looked both aristocratic and undeniably edgy.

“Mr. Edge, Xenia asked me to come back. That’s allowed, isn’t it? I just want to talk to her.”

“Of course. My mermaids are employees here, not prisoners. They see whomever they desire. Xenia asked me to give you this note.” Kingsley handed him a piece of sea-blue paper covered in water splotches.

“A note?”

“You should feel quite flattered. I do not deign to play messenger often. Lucky for you, I’m in a very good mood.”

“Do I want to know why?” Derek asked as he carefully unfolded the waterlogged piece of blue stationery Kingsley had given him.

“See her?” Kingsley pointed at a beautiful mermaid with long black hair, voluptuous breasts and a wide bright smile. “My Emelia…this is her last night. Joining the Peace Corps or some other such nonsense.” He said “nonsense” but Derek heard pride in his voice.

“And that puts you in a good mood?”

“Let’s just say at her request she will be getting quite a special send-off.”

Derek could only imagine what he meant by that. He tilted Xenia’s note into the light and read what he could of the wet words.

Hello, my handsome Derek Prince—If you stay until midnight I might turn into a pumpkin again. Wait, that’s the wrong story, isn’t it? I like how tall you are and that you smile when you look at me even when you think I can’t see you.

“She likes you,” Kingsley said.

“I like her. But we haven’t gotten to talk much.”

“She’s a delight. Intelligent, unusual and, of course, quite beautiful. I worry about her though.”

“Why? She’s amazing.”

“She’s been here so long, I fear she may have forgotten what the sun looks like. Perhaps you could remind her.”

“I can do that. Happily. Pumpkin at midnight?”

“When she’s finished for the night. There’s a lounge upstairs and to the left. You may wait there if you promise that what you see tonight, you will not share with others. I’m very protective of my mermaids.”

Derek pledged his silence and headed up the stairs Kingsley had indicated. Taking a hard left down a tiled corridor, Derek found the softly lit and luxurious lounge empty of men or mermaids. Impatient for midnight and his chance to talk to Xenia again, Derek wandered around the lounge and out into the hallway. Across from the longue, Derek found another room, this one appointed like a tasteful massage studio complete with padded table and bottles of exotic oils. Alanna, the redheaded mermaid from last night, stepped past him wearing only a towel. Without even waiting for him to look away, she dropped her towel and lay prone on the table. An attractive young man of about twenty-seven or-eight followed her into the room and washed his hands. He poured clear thick oil into his hands and ran it through the mermaid’s lustrous long hair. Then he doused the naked girl in a thick layer of golden oil and began to massage it into her skin.

The girl and her masseur chatted softly during her massage. At one point she flipped over to allow him access to the front of her body. She didn’t seem the least fazed when he oiled her breasts and thighs. Daily hot-oil massages as a perk of the job…no wonder Xenia didn’t want to leave this place. Derek decided that massages might be something he’d have to implement at his law office. Maybe Christian and Mark would pull their weight a little more with that incentive.

“Dude, the commentary is not appreciated,” Christian interrupted.

“But yes, massages at work,” Mark agreed. “Now continue.”

At first Derek thought it was an ordinary massage. With all the time the women spent in the water, Derek imagined they’d require an intensive skin-care regimen. But soon the rather perfunctory massage turned intimate as the masseur pushed apart Alanna’s legs and rubbed high on her inner thighs. Sighing blissfully, she opened her legs even wider. The young man reached between her thighs and spread apart the folds of her vagina.

“You’re shitting us,” Mark breathed, his eyes going wide enough Derek had to laugh. “Hymen check?”

“Exactly,” Derek said, flushing a little at the intensity of the memory. “But not just that.”

The man moved his fingers higher and began tracing tight circles around the mermaid’s clitoris. She closed her eyes, raised her hips slightly and after a few minutes of the masseur’s ministrations, she came with a flinch and a gasp. At no point during the procedure had he penetrated her in any way. Yet the look on her face indicated a very happy mermaid who’d just had a spectacularly strong orgasm.

“We can include that in our office massages.” Mark took a fresh drink from their scantily clad waitress. Derek knew Mark and Christian must be engrossed in his story as neither of them even bothered to flirt with her. “That won’t be an HR nightmare at all.”

“Screw our law firm.” Christian collapsed back into his seat as if spent. “I’m going to find that guy and take his job. Massages with happy endings. Awesome.”

Alanna rolled off the table, picked up her towel and strolled out of the studio. On her way out, she patted Derek on the cheek and kept walking. Just another day at the office.

“I guess swimming naked around the upper echelons of New York high society makes for some seriously immodest virgins,” Christian surmised.

Derek shook his head, still unable to believe that he’d seen what he’d seen last year at Fathoms.

“You haven’t heard anything yet,” Derek said and took a deep breath before diving back into his story.

Intending to head back to the lounge, or maybe the men’s room first and then the lounge, Derek turned around and came face-to-face with the striking blonde bartender from last night.

“Enjoy the show?” She arched her eyebrow at him.

Blushing guiltily, Derek knew he had no excuse for watching other than no one told him he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. Urs, right? That’s your name?” The girl didn’t bat an eyelash. “I was waiting on Xenia. Kingsley told me I could come up here.”

The girl’s anger flickered only slightly at the mention of Kingsley’s name.

“Xenia’s happy here. This is her home. This place may seem like a freak show to you, but it’s heaven here. Kingsley takes amazing care of his employees. The mermaids make incredible money, live in gorgeous
free
apartments, and as you saw, we get great benefits.”

“Kingsley said Xenia’s been here for three years. Don’t you think she might want to have a relationship with someone eventually?”

“With someone who will see her as some kind of prize, use her and then drop her when the shine wears off? When he realizes she’s just a tattooed girl who had a very cool job once upon a time but now is as human as he is? That kind of relationship?”

“No. A real relationship. Marriage maybe or kids. Or if not that then at least a healthy sexual relationship with someone she’s in love with. Is she going to be doing this when she’s sixty?”

“You’ll still want her when she’s sixty?”

“I just want to get to know her. She’s weird and beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about her. And no, I wasn’t just thinking about having sex with her. Believe it or not, I’d really like to take her to lunch and talk. Is that so horrible?”

“It’s not horrible, no,” she said, the venom gone from her tone and profound regret in its place. “But this is better. Trust me.”

Derek didn’t know what to say. He glanced down at the floor and saw a flash of a silver tattoo on Urs’s ankle, but no mermaid pendant graced her neck.

“You used to be a mermaid?” he asked, understanding her bitterness now.

“I did. But I was stupid and left.”

“What happened?”

“Some rich pretty-boy jackass—sound familiar?—made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“And?”

Urs started to walk down the hall.

“I didn’t refuse it.”

Derek returned to the lounge, Urs’s angry words echoing in his ears. Maybe she had a point. If Xenia was happy here at Fathoms, why leave it behind for the uncertainty that came standard with the real world and real relationships?

“Hello, my handsome Derek,” he heard a voice over his shoulder.

He turned his head and found Xenia, naked and dripping, standing in the doorway to the lounge. Water droplets gleamed on her breasts and belly.

“I’m sorry. I think I’ve forgotten English,” Derek said, blinking at her.

“It’s cute how you can’t stop staring at my breasts.”

“Cute is better than sociopathic. I really do know what your face looks like.”

“Really?” She put her hands on her hips. “Close your eyes.”

Derek took a nervous breath and obeyed. He heard soft wet footsteps on the tile floor coming closer to him.

“Now,” Xenia said, “tell me what color my eyes are.”

Derek smiled. “Dark blue like the ocean at night. And you have dark eyelashes that make them look even bluer.”

“Very good. You can open—” she began, but Derek wasn’t finished.

“You’ve got a freckle under your left eye and another freckle on your bottom lip. It looks like a tiny smudge of lipstick and I’m dying to kiss it. You also have a birthmark on your derriere that I also wouldn’t mind kissing.”

Christian burst into slightly drunken laughter.

“Did you really say ‘derriere’?” he asked.

“I was trying to make her laugh.”

“Did she laugh?” Mark asked.

“Better,” Derek said.

With his eyes closed he tried to think of a few more details to throw at her—how her hair looked like a silk veil as it trailed her in the water, how her nose crinkled when she giggled…but before he could get the words out, her lips, moist and cool, pressed against his lips, warm and ready. He expected a quick kiss, sweet and brief. But she surprised him again by turning her head and touching his bottom lip with her tongue.

Nearly groaning from the need to wrap his arms around her naked body and drag her to him, Derek forced himself to focus only on her mouth.

Soft and full, her lips moved on his with as much curiosity as hunger. She tasted clean and pure like water. He wanted to drink her.

Finally she pulled back and Derek opened his eyes. She smiled down at him and he decided then and there that when he died, he would be buried at sea.

“You’re an idiot, Derek,” Christian said.

“I’m not arguing with that,” Derek said. “But I was an idiot in love.”

“What happened after the awesome kiss?” Mark asked.

“Nothing torrid,” Derek said and saw Mark’s and Christian’s faces fall like those of two kids who didn’t get what they wanted for Christmas. “Not yet anyway.” Their faces lit up again. “Unfortunately she put on clothes.”

“What was she wearing?” Mark asked. “That hot white skirt and cami mermaidy thing again?”

“No. Pajamas. White shorts, a white tank top, white socks. She looked adorable.”

“I want a mermaid.” Mark sighed.

“I want torrid,” Christian said and waved at Derek to go on.

“Torrid did happen that night. But not between Xenia and me. Stay tuned. It’s about to get even weirder. And hotter.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at Xenia.

“Do you have any eights?” he asked.

Xenia bit her bottom lip, smiled and shook her head.

“No. Go fish.”

“Dammit. I think you’ve rigged this game.” Derek reached into the ocean to take a card.

“I’m even better at Old Maid.” Xenia winked at him.

Derek laughed, relieved she had a sense of humor about her virginity.

“But Go Fish! is my favorite,” she continued. “Mermaids and fish are very good friends. I have connections.”

Smiling, Derek sorted the cards in his hand. This might go down in history as his oddest first date ever. In some respects the date progressed very well—already he’d achieved access to Xenia’s bed. But in other respects he imagined his friends scoffing at his current activity. He and Xenia sat cross-legged on her covers, a deck of cards between them as they played Go Fish! and talked.

“I have connections too.” Derek stretched out on his side. “My father’s the deputy mayor.”

“The governor of Vermont offered me fifty thousand dollars for my virginity. So there.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Are you serious?”

“No.” Xenia laid down a book of cards. “It was Connecticut.”

Groaning, Derek rolled onto his back.

“If 50K and a governorship doesn’t do it for you, then I have no chance, right?” he asked, still smiling.

“The governor of Connecticut never played Go Fish! with me. And he’s ugly. You aren’t. Alanna said you look like Paul Walker. I have no idea who that is, but apparently it’s a compliment.”

“Well, you look like…” Derek tried to find someone beautiful enough to compare Xenia to but came up short. “You look like you. And that’s the best compliment I’ve got.”