Lords of the Deep (9 page)

Unless it was just that he spent all of his time working in his lab?

That seemed like a good possibility.

And she still wasn’t going to crawl on his lap and mount that anaconda of his!

“They don’t wear clothes,” she said into the recorder after a few moments. “I’m not sure I understand why. Although I suppose it would make swimming uncomfortable and changing really tedious, it doesn’t seem to me that they spend that much time outside. Of course, I can’t really judge that at this point. I’ve only been here since last night and they’ve been busy studying me.

“If I wasn’t scared absolutely shitless, I’d probably be excited about the situation. Here I thought I
might
get a chance to help Dr. Feinstein with his research on giant squids and I’ve found something nobody knew existed—or rather was found by something—sentient beings—very advanced. From what I can tell, they seem to be at least as technologically advanced as we are—maybe more in some respects. This place where I am is nothing short of a marvel. I haven’t seen but two of them—both males—very obviously males! I’m thinking this place must be an individual domicile … which must mean others, some sort of community. It’s hard to grasp the possibility of an entire city, or a number of cities, on the ocean floor, but unless these are shipwrecked aliens then there would have to be more of them.

“I’d been thinking along the lines that no one had ever seen them, but it’s occurred to me that these people could possibly be responsible for myths about mermaids. How odd is it, actually, that there were all sorts of stories about mermaids and virtually none about mermen?

“I suppose, though, since most of the tales seemed to have been told by seamen that they weren’t interested in whether there were males or not,” she added wryly.

“They’re really big—not just tall. Both of the two I’ve seen are taller than the average human. Since they’re the only ones, I couldn’t say if they’re average or above or below average for their kind. They’re brawny, too, well defined muscles all over—not surprising if they spend a lot of time swimming and, of course, their primary diet seems to be fish.

“They’re both exceptionally handsome, too, very well defined features, pleasing in form, very symmetrical—which points to an excellent gene pool.”

She set the recorder aside when Damien came in bearing a tray. He settled it on the bed, giving her a quizzical look. Angie reddened, realizing she’d gotten so caught up in recording her thoughts she hadn’t thought to dash to the bathroom to dress the minute Miles left.

It seemed a lame excuse even to her.

After a moment of indecision, she decided to try to ignore her nudity and moved across the mattress to settle opposite Damien. His cock rose and looked at her with its one dark eye the moment she uncoiled. Disconcerted, she stared back at it. Damien grasped it, gritting his teeth as he trapped it beneath his thigh.

She glanced at his face. Contrary to what she’d expected, however, he wasn’t leering at her. He appeared to be trying very hard to pretend he was oblivious both to her nakedness and his arousal.

She settled with her legs together, wishing her hair was a little longer so that it actually covered her breasts.

Once her discomfort had subsided a little and she’d managed to focus at least part of her attention on the food, it occurred to her to wonder about the situation. If, as she assumed, they didn’t wear clothes—and she thought she could assume that because they hadn’t put anything on and seemed comfortable with it—how did they usually handle arousal? Did the poor males go around with erections all the time?

She would’ve been more inclined to think they must, being males and constantly exposed to naked females, except that she realized that neither Damien nor Miles had behaved in a lascivious manner. They didn’t seem to be particularly uncomfortable about it—maybe a little but not as if they were acutely embarrassed—but they certainly didn’t seem to be
trying
to bring on their erections to impress her or anything.

Of course she
was
impressed—maybe a little intimidated at the size of them—though it was something of a relief that they didn’t seem to get a lot bigger when aroused, just harder.

Was their ‘problem’ because they were particularly interested in her? Or was it just the circumstances?

Maybe their own women wore at least
some
clothing, and it was just the men that didn’t? If that was the case, though, why hadn’t they provided her with anything to wear? They’d provided everything else she needed.

And, if the females did wear clothing, did they cover up everything? Just the top? Or just the bottom? Maybe they didn’t worry about the bottom—if their lower bodies were like the males, maybe it wasn’t that noticeable?

Or maybe they covered their lower bodies and didn’t worry about the breasts like some more primitive tribes in the world did?

As hard as he was pretending not to notice, Damien seemed fascinated by her breasts, though. She didn’t quite know what to think about that. As breasts went, she couldn’t consider them particularly impressive. In anything, she thought they were a little on the small side.

Maybe that was it, she thought a little indignantly? He wasn’t used to seeing women with such small breasts?

She tamped that bit of insecurity. All of their women wouldn’t have large breasts, she was sure. If people came in all shapes and sizes, then it stood to reason these beings would, too.

There was a problem, she discovered, with eating naked aside from the hygienic aspects, or lack thereof. She dripped—something—all over her breasts and belly. She didn’t know what it was, but she felt the splats of three juicy drops right on her boobs, one dead center of her chest, and one on either breast. Damien paused with his own food halfway to his mouth as if he’d suddenly gone catatonic.

She supposed they didn’t have slobs.

Damien swallowed convulsively several times, his gaze following the slow glide of the juices down her body. One drop scaled the slope of her right globe, rolled over the pink bud, and then just hung there, defying gravity. He crushed the food he had in his hand and then turned to stare at it as if he had no idea how it had gotten there.

Angie, after looking around a little hopefully for something to mop off with, got up and went into the bathroom to wash off. Since her clothing, such as it was, was dry, she put that on when she’d cleaned up and dried off.

Damien was gone when she got back.

Feeling oddly let down, she finally shrugged. Moving to the bed, she brushed a few stray crumbs off and climbed on the mattress again, picking up the recorder.

“It’s almost bizarre that everything they have is actually very similar to things we have, and yet I suppose that’s just narrow minded thinking on my part. It’s actually logical that it would be so similar since it was designed by and for beings so similar to us. They would have pretty much the same needs and requirements as we would have. Then, too, it can’t be dismissed that so many inventions we have were being developed by scientists all over the world at the same time even in the days before worldwide communications like we have now—by people who had no idea that someone else was working on the same thing.

“The artistic aspects aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen and the materials they’ve used are different, but the construction and use of everything is very similar—close enough that I don’t think I’d have much trouble with anything—haven’t so far.”

Tiring of the recordings after a while, particularly once she’d run dry of anything that seemed the least bit interesting to comment on, she set it down and moved to what appeared to be a window, or porthole. After studying the covering for a few minutes and the surface of the wall around it, she finally found a button. She hesitated, abruptly fearful that it would open the entire thing and water would flood in, but she finally decided that probably wasn’t likely.

She still tensed, ready to run if she discovered she was wrong.

Relieved when she’d pressed it and discovered it simply opened the shutter covering the window as she’d thought, she moved closer to peer out. The accelerated rhythm of her heart from the scare didn’t diminish with the view she took in. It was still dark so far under the sea, but far lighter than when she’d looked out before—light enough she could see the city in the distance.

A sense of awe filled her. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie. There was nothing even remotely ugly or clunky about it. A graceful dome covered the center, but it looked as if the city had grown over time and smaller, varying sized domes had been connected as the city spread out. She couldn’t tell much more about it from such a distance, unfortunately. The domes seemed to be constructed primarily of some kind of translucent material, though, probably the same thing as the window she was looking out—which might or might not be glass. She could see outlines of what appeared to be buildings of varying heights, though, and lights everywhere, giving off a faint blue-green glow, although she supposed they could be yellow or white lights and simply had that effect filtered through the water.

She stared at it for a very long time, trying to see more, but finally gave up. It was just too far away, she thought in disappointment. As she redirected her attention, she noticed spoke-like things radiating outward from the city domes. She studied those a while and finally discovered that she could see movement. People going in and out? Maybe. It was too far to be sure, but she decided that must be what it was. There would have to ways in and out—quite a few if it was a city filled with people since there was bound to be a lot of traffic.

Widening her search after several minutes, she discovered that the city was set in a broad valley. Mountains ringed it and she could see what looked like small domes dotting the area around—houses—farm houses, at least some. She saw what at least appeared to be cultivated fields.

“My god!” she breathed. Glancing around for the recorder and snatching it up, she began to describe everything she could see. She was so enthralled that she didn’t even hear Miles when he entered the room.

She jumped a little guilty when he spoke, whirling around and staring at him wide-eyed, wondering suddenly if she was seeing things she shouldn’t be seeing, recording them!

He said something and held out his hand.

She stared at his hand with budding uneasiness and pretended she had no idea he was demanding the return of the recorder. He pointed at it and demanded it again. She shoved it behind her back. “No! You gave it to me. It’s mine now!”

Miles studied her, trying to figure out how he was going to get his recorder away from her short of wrestling her for it.

He didn’t think that was a good idea. Aside from the fact that he still wasn’t completely certain that she didn’t have any way to inject toxins, considering the effect just looking at her had on him, he didn’t think wallowing all over her was likely to have a happy conclusion—not for him, anyway.

Damien came in, pausing in the doorway and propping one shoulder on the frame. “She won’t give me the recorder,” Miles said indignantly.

Damien shrugged. “Give her something else to play with. She’s probably bored. She’s too bright not to be.”

Miles sent him an irritated glance. “Just what do you suggest?” he demanded resentfully. “I should give her my microscope? Or maybe my spectrometer?”

Damien grinned at him. “Whichever would be the lightest to carry, I guess … and the least lethal if she decided to throw it.”

“Well, I’m not giving her either one! See if you can reason with her.”

Damien gave him a look. “How the hell do you think I can do that when I can’t even talk to her?”

Miles fumed for a moment and finally got up, stalking out. Damien studied Angie speculatively but decided his blood was a little too high, still, to go any closer. Miles breezed back in after a few minutes holding a remote. Settling on the edge of the bed, he waved it at her. “Buttons! This one has lots buttons. Give me the recorder you little shit and I’ll give you the remote.”

Damien chuckled. “Nice. Try sweet talking her.”

“I smiled when I said it. She doesn’t know the difference,” Miles said irritably.

“That teeth baring thing was a smile?”

Miles gave him a deadly look and then turned to study Angie again. “Look, sweety,” he said, using the shutter control to open and close the window shutter. “See! It does fun things!”

Angie glanced from him to the remote to the window and returned her gaze to Miles. Very deliberately, she leaned over and pressed the button beside the window.

Damien laughed.

Miles glared at her.

Damien decided it was time to intervene. Striding across the room he held out his hand to her. “Give it to me, Angie,” he said firmly.

She clasped it behind her back and shook her head. “No!”

He narrowed his eyes at her speculatively, allowing a predatory smile to curl his lips. “I know you don’t want me to come after it,” he murmured.

Her eyes widened. After staring at him uncertainly a minute, she pulled the recorder from behind her back with a great show of reluctance and dropped it in his palm. He uttered an irritated sigh and slapped the recorder in Miles’ hand. “I didn’t think you did.”

Miles divided a glance between them. “She acted as if she understood what you were saying!”