He stepped close, lowering his head to kiss her softly on the lips, tasting her
sweat, putting his arms around her, feeling the way she shuddered with the raw
tension. Her breasts pushed insistently against his chest, and her hair rustled
on his skin.
“Now I want to get in that fuckin’ big bath and make love to you for the rest of
the day,” said Ryan.
“It doesn’t matter, me bein’ a mutie?”
“Not unless you use your Earth Mother power when I’m inside you and crush me to
pulp.”
“Don’t joke about it, Ryan.”
“Sorry.”
She kissed him again, her tongue snaking over his teeth. Her right hand crept
down over his stomach, touching the curling tendrils of hair.
His response was instantaneous.
“That’s nice,” she whispered. “Stickin’ out, not hangin’ out.”
Krysty led Ryan to the whirlpool bath. The water was still hot, and she pressed
a violet-colored button to mix in some scented foam, making the exercise room
smell like a meadow in summer. A square black button made the water churn and
swirl. Great cascades of bubbles burst all around Ryan as he lowered himself
cautiously into the bath.
“Nice?” she asked.
“Not bad,” he replied, offering a hand to help her step in beside him. There was
a ledge around the side of the bath and they sat together on it, the water only
a few inches over their laps.
Krysty, her back to him, lowered herself carefully into the water while he
caressed her from behind. “Oh, yes. Yes, Ryan, that’s great. Not too fast.”
Ryan reached around, feeling her nipples move against his palm. His right hand
delved lower and deeper, under the water, between her parted thighs, found the
tiny bud of flesh that nestled there. Rolling it between his finger and thumb,
he enjoyed hearing the girl moan. It became swollen and she leaned her head
back, half turning and nipping at the skin of his shoulder, drawing a ruby bead
of blood.
Gasping she removed his hand from between her legs, then gripped his rigid penis
and quickly guided it into her body.
Krysty had extraordinary control over all her muscles, tightening herself about
him, squeezing his penis, bringing him toward a raging orgasm.
Though he tried to hold back for her, the girl’s skill was too much for Ryan,
and he felt himself bursting inside her. But he stayed hard long enough for her
to ride him to her own climax.
All around them the scented water continued to bubble noisily. Still sitting on
his lap, Krysty kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “Good. Thanks, Ryan.”
“It was real good.” He paused. “Krysty… Oh, fireblast! Thanks.”
After a while they made love once again in the whirlpool bath, then finally got
out, dripping water everywhere.
“Should get some clean clothes, Ryan,” she suggested.
“Yeah. Tomorrow let’s go to the store and find us some.”
They dressed in their old gear, making sure their weapons were in place. Krysty,
ready before him, looked around the big exercise room, taking in the equipment
and the mirrors. The bath was loudly draining.
“Look.”
“What is it?”
“The fuckin’ spyin’ old bastard.” She stooped to pick up a length of ragged
green ribbon from the floor near the door.
The kind of ribbon that Quint, the Keeper of the redoubt, wore braided in his
straggly gray beard.
Chapter Six
“HOW DO THE WOLVES survive, Uchitel?” asked Bochka, the Barrel, astride the
largest horse in the party.
“They eat the weak.”
“If there are no weak, brother?”
Uchitel peered through the gap between his hood and the scarf around his nose
and mouth. “Then they eat each other, Bochka.” Raising his voice so the others
could hear him, he added, “And if we fall on evil times and must devour each
other, I take the leader’s right of roasting Bochka all for myself.”
A ripple of laughter ran back along the column until it vanished in the murk of
wind-blown snow. Since the raiders had left Ozhbarchik two days back, the
weather had been deteriorating. Three times Uchitel had ordered emergency
shelters to be dug in the packed snow; they used the long-bladed saws that they