At last, I slipped into the pool and a moan of pure delight escaped my lips. The water only came up to my waist near the edges of the pool but when I ventured into the center of the large octagon, I found that it got deeper and deeper until at last I was treading water because my toes no longer touched the bottom.
But I wasn’t there for a vigorous swim—I wanted to relax. With a sigh, I flipped over onto my back and just let myself float. The warm water lapping against my bare skin felt heavenly—so soothing and calming. I didn’t even mind the way the bites on my arms and the scrapes on my knees from where R’xs had yanked me to the ground stung. Soon enough the pain from my small injuries calmed down as my body got used being immersed again.
Warm bubble baths had been a big part of my stress-relief routine back home on Earth and I had missed them terribly once I was stranded on O’nagga Nine. Now I felt like all the strain and horror and sorrow of the past six months was slowly leaking out of me—being replaced by peace and a sense of security I had no right to feel.
Don’t get too used to this,a little voice in my head whispered.You know it’s only once, right? And he’s probably only letting you use the bath because he wants you squeaky clean before he bites your thigh for blood.
The thought of those broad shoulders splitting my legs wide so the Baron could drink from my inner thigh sent a little shiver down my spine. As I said, I had never been sexually attracted to or stimulated by a man before, but there was something about him that felt different from any other man I’d ever met.
Well, heisdifferent—he’s an alien for one thing,I thought. But no—it was more than that, somehow—I just couldn’t put my finger on it…
I spent probably two hours soaking in the tub—I didn’t want to get out. I washed my hair with the products in the little ceramic jars and scrubbed my body with a long-handled instrument that had a lot of tiny little pebbles embedded in a flat pad on one end. When I rubbed the pebbles over my body, they somehow produced a thick, luxuriant lather which cleaned me as the pebbles exfoliated. It feltwonderfuland I sang as I scrubbed.
I have a good voice—my Mama had me in the choir with her from an early age—and the songs echoed from the walls and ceilings of the spa-like bathing chamber, proclaiming my joy at finally getting a real bath. I sang gospel hymns I remembered from my church days, some R & B, some soul, pop, rock—whatever came to mind. It was a joy to lift up my voice again and hear it echoing back to me.
I always sing in the shower or the bath—it’s just another part of my stress relief—but I hadn’t felt like singing the entire time I’d been on O’nagga nine. Now the music flowed through me like pure joy and I gave into it and sang my heart out, not caring a bit what the servants outside might think.
Finally I wound down my little one woman concert and paddled to the edge of the tub to look at the ceramic jars one more time. I needed something for my curls and I was hoping to find a product that would work to keep them from getting frizzy.
There was one jar that said something I couldn’t read in Naggian script, but the consistency of the paste inside it reminded me a little bit of the curly custard I used back home to tame my long curls. Deciding to take a chance, I rubbed some between my palms and massaged it in, praying it would work like I hoped it would.
Then, finally, it was time to get out. I climbed up the ladder closest to a bench with towels on it and wrapped myself in one as big as a bed sheet and about three times as thick and fluffy as any towel I’d ever used on Earth. It felt wonderful against my freshly scrubbed skin and I rubbed it all over myself, feeling luxuriously clean.
But now that I was clean, I hesitated to put back on my many, many layers. Yes, they had been cleaned often in my neighbor’s ion shower, but they just felt gross and dingy now. However, I couldn’t wander around the Baron’s house naked, could I? Besides scandalizing his staff and giving the Baron the wrong idea, it would also be too cold—unless I went and sat right by one of his many fireplaces. Hmm…I betthatwould feel nice.
Then I saw the answer to my problem—hanging against the far wall was a deep red bathrobe. I slipped it off the hanger and tried it on—it fell all the way to my feet and was so big it wrapped around me almost twice. There were plush slippers too, but they were much too big for me, so I decided to stay barefoot, though I knew it would be chilly.
I wrapped my damp hair in a slightly smaller towel that I found and bundled my many layers into a large pile, being careful not to squash the snacks I had saved for later. Tucking this under my arm, I looked for the way out.
Besides the burnished bronze door I had come in by, there was one other, smaller door on the other side of the room with a metal plaque that said, “drying room,”in Naggian script. Hmm—that could be interesting.
Deciding to take a chance, I pushed open the door and peeked around it. What I found was a cozy little room, slightly smaller than the room the Baron and I had breakfasted in. This was an interior room so there was no view of the city, but that didn’t matter to me.
The wallpaper was deep red with faded gold designs on it and there was a fireplace with a fire crackling on the hearth. Sitting in front of the hearth and a little to one side was an enormous wingback chair that seemed to be made of dark brown leather. It had a very high back and I couldn’t see the front of it, but I didn’t care—I made a bee-line for the fireplace.
After setting my bundle of clothes to one side on the floor, I straightened up and stood in front of the crackling flames. I untied the sash of the enormous red robe I was wearing and spread it wide. The feeling of the fire’s warmth bathing my naked body was almost as good as the warm bath had been. I sighed contentedly as I aired myself out, letting the heat from the fireplace evaporate the last few drops of water and dry me completely.
Just as I was feeling more relaxed and happy than I had in months, a deep voice from the vicinity of the wingback chair rumbled,
“Enjoying yourself, little girl?”
EIGHT
NATALIE
Igasped and whirled around, forgetting for a moment that my robe was still hanging open. The Baron was sitting there, his blue eyes glowing in the firelight. When he saw my gaping robe, he raised his eyebrows.
“Putting on a show?” he remarked.
“Oh! I…I didn’t realize!” I gasped, scrambling to grab the sides of the robe and wrap myself back up. Tying the sash securely, I frowned at him. “What areyoudoing in here, anyway?”
“Well, itismy domicile,” he said mildly. “Though I apologize—I should have announced my presence at once. But I didn’t expect you to come in and, er, air yourself out either.”
“I was just trying to get all the way dry before I had to go into the cold again,” I said, feeling defensive. “This big robe is really nice, but it’s not quite as absorbent as the towels.”
“I agree,” he said, nodding. “I would know, since it’s my robe.”
“What? Oh, no!” I started to take the robe off, then thought better of it and wrapped myself even more tightly in the plush crimson fabric. “I should have known!” I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks heat with a blush. “No wonder it’s so big—I’m so sorry, Barron!”