Slaves of Elysium

 

SLAVES OF ELYSIUM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By

W. S. Antony

 

 

 

Slaves of Elysium first published in 2003 by

Chimera Books Ltd. Published as an eBook in 2011 by Chimera Books Ltd

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Chimera a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

 

Digital Edition Converted and Published by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

 

New authors
are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to
hear from you
.

 

This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex

 

This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

 

Copyright W. S. Antony. The right of W. S. Antony to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

 

 

‘Not so hard, Jeni!' Rebecca Lamont snapped. ‘And lower down... that's better.'

Obediently, Jeni Weeks moved her hands along her employer's spine to the base of her ribs. Rebecca was sprawled naked face down on the bed in her luxurious cabin onboard the
Galatea III
. Jeni, clad in a simple sweatshirt and shorts, knelt astride her thighs. Outside the portholes lapped the blue-green waters of Hamilton Harbour, Bermuda.

Jeni was the latest in a long line of personal maids, and so far she had stayed longer in Rebecca's service than any of her predecessors. As she massaged out the muscular kinks imparted by an unexpectedly long tennis match, Jeni once again compared Rebecca's blithe self-assurance and masterful manner with her own natural deference. Though Rebecca was only two years older than she was, it made the gap between them seem much greater. Physically Jeni thought Rebecca looked like a real woman, while Jeni felt herself to be hardly more than a girl.

Rebecca was slim but well curved, with skin lightly tanned to match her cascade of golden hair. Jeni's own hair was almost as blonde, but her skin was pinker and she tended to redden if she caught too much sun. Rebecca's waist was narrow and buttocks firmly rounded, while Jeni felt her own waist looked a little thick compared to her slim hips.

‘Do my legs now,' Rebecca said, turning over abruptly so that Jeni had to scramble out of the way.

Jeni bent and stretched Rebecca's shapely thighs, looking at her face as she lay with her eyes closed. Rebecca's nose was narrow and elegant, while Jeni considered her own to be short and snubbed. Rebecca's face was a well-proportioned oval in contrast to her own rounded cheeks and elfin chin. Her breasts were fuller than Jeni's, and the golden curls between her thighs trimmed to a narrow wedge to allow the wearing of the most stylish swimwear. She was so beautiful Jeni could almost forgive her other failings...

‘That's enough,' Rebecca said abruptly.

Jeni slipped off the bed and awaited her orders.

‘If Mark asks, tell him I'm resting,' Rebecca said, adjusting a pillow under her head. ‘We'll be going out again tonight. Lay out my blue silk camisole and trousers, with the sapphire necklace.'

‘Yes, miss,' Jeni said.

She gathered up Rebecca's carelessly discarded sportswear and silently left the cabin.

 

Bradley Ash was working in the galley when Jeni appeared with the laundry and loaded it into the washing machine – the
Galatea III
having every luxury. Ash glanced round from his labours, which were filling the compact space with a mouth-watering aroma, to flash Jeni a dazzling grin.

‘She resting?' he asked.

Jeni nodded. ‘She's tired out from the tennis match.'

‘So's mine,' Ash continued wryly. ‘It sure is hard work being rich.'

The ‘mine' in question was Mark Devereaux, Ash's employer, the owner of the
Galatea III
and Rebecca's latest boyfriend. Devereaux was an American, the younger son of a wealthy Boston family. Having two older and far more commercially minded brothers, Mark was apparently superfluous to the requirements of the family business. Consequently he was given a generous allowance and the freedom to do more or less what he liked, on condition that it did not bring the Devereaux name into disrepute. Rebecca had met him in Paris three months earlier and they'd been together ever since.

Bradley Ash was the Galatea's combined engineer, cook and first mate. Devereaux enjoyed giving the impression that he travelled light and needed little help running the yacht. In fact, Ash was all the regular crew that was required on the highly automated vessel, even though it was a sleek twenty-two metres stem to stern.

Ash rather puzzled Jeni. The big African-American seemed to be able to turn his hand to more or less anything with equal facility, so how had he ended up crewing for Mark Devereaux, a position that seemed a waste of his talents?

While Ash finished cooking, Jeni laid the galley table for the two of them. On the railed shelves above it was an eclectic mix of cookery books, marine engineering manuals, paperback thrillers and a few classics. This was very much Bradley's domain as Devereaux had little interest in cooking for himself, while Jeni suspected Rebecca had done nothing more adventurous than toast bread in a kitchen for years. Since they'd been in Bermuda, Devereaux and Rebecca had dined out most days either at restaurants or privately. However, Jeni doubted the couple had found finer food than this.

She took her seat as Ash served up his version of one of Bermuda's local dishes, made of codfish, eggs, boiled potatoes, bananas and avocados, topped with an onion and tomato sauce.

‘I'll never eat all that,' Jeni protested, seeing the size of her portion. ‘I don't want to get fat.'

Ash chuckled. ‘You've got a way to go before you have to worry on that score.'

‘Do you really think so?' Jeni asked hesitantly.

‘Trust me, you look fine.'

Jeni smiled shyly. She did not receive many compliments. By comparison with Rebecca she always felt dowdy. She hoped Ash was not just being kind.

Ash sat down opposite her and began tucking into the meal. In between forkfuls he asked, ‘You going ashore this afternoon?'

‘Maybe. I haven't much time. I'll have to be back to help miss Rebecca get ready for tonight.'

Ash shook his head, clicking his tongue in a show of disapproval. ‘Kid, how many times have you been off this boat since we got here?'

‘Uh... three, I think.'

‘This is Bermuda. See some of it. Enjoy yourself.'

‘But it's my job to look after Miss Rebecca,' Jeni protested.

‘Yeah, and it's my job to take care of Mark, but I still manage to have a little fun between times. Don't let that woman run your life. You're not her slave.'

‘I don't mind, really.' She hesitated, then added, ‘I'm sorry she's so rude to you. The way she looks and says things... I'm sure she just doesn't think?'

For the first time Ash's normally amiable expression slipped. ‘Stop apologising for her. I know her kind. She thinks I should be back on the plantation playing at Uncle Tom. Yes sir, massa boss. We poor black folk is so glad to break our backs cutting your cane...'

Jeni shrunk back in her seat, recoiling from the anger behind Ash's words. He blinked and looked at her apologetically. ‘Sorry, Jeni, I don't usually let it get to me that way. It's not your fault. I don't hold you responsible for the way your boss acts.'

‘Do you... dislike working for Mr Devereaux?' she asked timidly.

Ash shook his head. ‘Mark has his faults, but to be fair, prejudice ain't one of them. It was his father who asked me to look after him. Keep him from doing anything too dumb, that kind of thing. I get a bonus for that which Mark doesn't know anything about. He's not as bright as he thinks and he's easily strung along.'

‘By people like Rebecca?' Jeni wondered.

‘Could be. He'll probably get tired of her soon enough – if she doesn't dump him first.' He grinned at Jeni. ‘Meanwhile, you enjoy the ride. While your precious Rebecca is resting up for a hard night's partying, why don't you take some time off?'

 

At Ash's insistence, Jeni went ashore and spent a couple of hours walking round the tiny but bustling city of Hamilton, which the Bermudians invariably called the ‘town'. Under the intense, clear island sky, the pastel colours of the houses – pale blues, lemon, limes and apricots – seemed improbably brilliant. She looked round Bermuda cathedral, thinking it strange to see a gothic-styled building that might have been standing somewhere in England, fringed by palm trees. This impression was reinforced by the names of the neat grid of streets along which she walked, which told of the island's colonial past; Richmond Road, Queen Street and Cedar Avenue. On Front Street, which ran alongside the harbour, Jeni found a store selling china miniatures of typical Bermudian cottages, with their distinctive circular arching ‘moongates'. She bought one for her Aunt Patricia, who was really an elderly cousin and the nearest living relation she had.

 

Jeni returned punctually to the
Galatea
in time to lay out Rebecca's clothes and help her with her hair and make-up.

Mark Devereaux appeared in a bowtie and immaculate white linen dinner suit. He was a tall, lean young man with classically regular features and an easy smile. What Ash had confided in her earlier, however, confirmed Jeni's initial opinion that there was not a lot behind that outward show of confidence.

Mark and Rebecca had been invited to dine at a private seafront house in Riddle's Bay opening off Little Sound, which lay a few kilometres along the curving lower arm of Main Island from Hamilton. Their hosts were sending a launch to collect them.

Their transport arrived as the sun was lowering over the Sound, burnishing the waters in gold. Ash and Jeni saw the pair off; climbing into the launch from the diving platform extending from the
Galatea's
stern. Devereaux gave a casual wave as the launch's engine growled, carrying them away on a crest of foam.

Jeni watched them go with mixed emotions. A small part of her envied the world they moved in, but she knew such a life was not for her. Her place was serving Rebecca, not accompanying her to parties.

Perhaps it was because her thoughts were wandering that she did something rather clumsy.

As she and Ash walked back from the aft deck into the saloon she collided with him in the doorway. It would have been a trivial incident if Jeni had not at that moment become aware of how large and strong Ash was, and how small she seemed beside him. Instead of an apology or passing it off lightly with some casual remark, Jeni froze, gazing at him helplessly for a second before dropping her eyes in shame. They were alone together on the boat, she thought, as her heart raced. He could do anything he wanted with her. It needed only a word or a touch...

‘Sorry,' Ash said slowly, ‘my fault.'

‘No, mine,' Jeni said breathlessly, and almost ran to her cabin, aware of Ash's curious stare following her. She'd let her guard slip and he'd caught a glimpse of that secret part of her she tried to hide from the world.

 

Jeni was woken in the early hours by raised voices. Hastily pulling a wrap over her nightdress she ventured from her cabin, through the galley and up into the saloon. Rebecca and Devereaux were there, both looking a little unsteady but excited, their faces flushed with drink. Ash was standing in front of them, in only boxer shorts as though he'd just climbed out of bed, arms folded defiantly. As Jeni peered he was saying, ‘I don't think this is a good idea.'

Rebecca stiffened, her flush deepening. ‘It doesn't matter what you think, Mr Ash. You are paid to run this boat, not to think or to be insolent. You'll do what Mr Devereaux tells you, understand?'

Ash stiffened and Jeni thought he was going to tell Rebecca exactly what he thought of her, but fortunately Devereaux interposed himself between them.

‘Wa... wass the big deal, Brad?' he asked with a crooked smile. ‘It's just a bit of fun. Get things ready like I said...' he frowned and blinked. ‘I need some rest. Got to be fresh for tomorrow...'

Throwing his arm about Rebecca he guided her out through the forward door of the saloon towards the master cabins. Ash watched them go with a scowl.

‘What was that about?' Jeni asked him timidly, when the closing of a cabin door had muted the laughs and giggles of their respective employers.

Ash turned to her in evident exasperation, running a hand irritably through his close-cropped hair.

‘Mark has only gone and bet four of his newfound cruising buddies that the
Galatea
can beat them to Nassau, that's all! He wants me to lay in extra fuel and stores. The race starts noon tomorrow.'

‘That doesn't sound so bad,' Jeni said. She knew they had been planning to head back to the American coast and then continue on south, calling in at Charleston on the way to Florida. Then they might have worked their way across to the Bahamas by easy stages. Now it seemed they were going by the most direct route.

‘Listen,' Ash said earnestly. ‘This is a fine boat, but it wasn't built for racing. It's over eight hundred nautical miles from here to Nassau. At regular cruising speed, without any glitches and in fair weather, we could get there in twenty-seven hours or thereabouts. Going at max speed, and Mark wouldn't settle for less, would cut that time by maybe four hours. That's a big margin in a race, but it's pushing the engines. We've never run them so hard for so long before. If they die on us in mid-ocean we'll have to call for a salvage tender, which is not the sort of publicity the Devereaux family want. And that's assuming we don't have a serious blow-out.' He groaned. ‘Maybe I can talk some sense into him in the morning when he's got the booze out of his system.'

‘And if you can't you won't leave him, will you?' Jeni asked anxiously.