Watson, Ian - Novel 08 by The Gardens of Delight (v1.1) Read Free Book Online Page B

who remarked on the absence of noxious
insects—on such a warm day, when their hands and chins and breasts were sticky
with congealing juices . . .
                 Besides
the three squires, Dimple, Dapple and Dawdle, two women had joined the
feast—one, raven-haired, who sang to herself in between bites; the other a
freckled redhead with a tomboyish look to her who had run up carrying a
strawberry the size of a basketball. She had sliced this briskly into soft pink
steaks with a slim index finger. Neither this redhead nor the squires paid the
slightest attention to any hints of Earth or enquired about the starship,
though they did cast it wondering glances. It was as though they didn’t hear,
or chose to forget what they heard immediately—just as the three squires had
actively forgotten their own names. (While the dark woman simply sang to
herself, wordlessly, as though it was important that she got her voice exactly
right before she was prepared to say anything with it.) All through the meal,
though, the redhead inched her buttocks closer to Paavo over the turf, till she
was idly fingering the fabric of his jumpsuit as though it was a suit of
chain-mail with each link a separate tiny lock to be unpicked by the keys of
gentle touch.
                 Just
then, a trio of apes burst from the bushes and capered up to the feasting
party, tumbling and somersaulting. Applauding gleefully, the Garden-people
tossed pieces of fruit to the ape acrobats—who, however, paid no attention to
these. There was mischief in their eyes. As soon as they had maneuvered close
enough, each ape at the same moment snatched up one of the jumpsuits discarded
by Sean, Muthoni and Denise and raced off at speed, trailing silver-grey
banners back into the bushes.
                 With
a howl, Paavo rose.
                 “Hey,”
called Sean, “it doesn’t matter. We’ve got spares on board.”
                 “Doesn’t matter?” Paavo raced after the simian
thieves, crashing from view into the bushes. Sleekly, the redhead uncoiled
herself and sprinted hot-foot after him.
                 “I
think they were making a point,” said Denise, unregretfully. She dangled her
hair down over her breasts, teasing it around her nipples, as though this would
be sufficient costume for her from now on. Austin looked away hurriedly,
hastily converting the reflex into a studious inspection of the access ramp, in
case other wild life were busy furtively pillaging the lobby of the ship. None
was, though.
                 The
dark-haired woman whose voice was a song began helping Denise to arrange her
hair in different cascades, down her spine, over her shoulders, in between her
breasts, her wandering hands joined soon by stag-rider Dimple’s hands, then
Dapple’s. Denise tensed briefly then she relaxed, closing her eyes and moving
her own hands over their faces and bodies like a girl playing blind man’s buff,
discovering them as she herself was discovered.
                 Jeremy
winked at Muthoni as Loquela commenced a closer investigation of her ‘nigredo’
skin with her lips and tongue. He began stroking Loquela as though this would
set up a current that would attract Muthoni to him indirectly. Muthoni shifted
uncertainly up against Sean, her eyes fixed widely on Denise succumbing to the
medley of hands and mouths. Sean’s arm wandered around Muthoni’s waist and
thighs.
                 “Aphrodisiac,”
she murmured, nibbling his ear lobe. “The gooseberries, I think. It’s sweet. Satisfy the belly, satisfy the
body. And why not?”
                 Her
gaze dropped to Sean’s lap, where he was unfetteredly erect—as were the other
men, Austin presumably included; only Austin was restricted by his jumpsuit and
merely shifted about uncomfortably. Abruptly Tanya jumped up and fled to the
access ramp, into the ship out of sight. Muthoni let herself be pushed