The Secret of Excalibur (6 page)

“Relax, kid, I'm fine. Alpha Team did all the difficult work.” I hold out my hand to the Major, and we shake, then he steps back and salutes. Dobie finally arrives.

Trying to talk with heaving lungs, Dobie stammers breathlessly, “Merlin, er, Arthur, damn fine show.” He's in pretty bad shape, huffing and puffing away. Panting and grinning like that makes him resemble a damn alligator.

“Commander, the men of Alpha Team did a fine job. Good men all, sir. I'm proud to have worked with them,” I say.

Dobie grabs my hand, giving a firm shake, then just as quickly he jerks his hand away. His mouth and eyes fly wide open, his face going deathly pale. I suddenly remember how susceptible he is to my mental probe, and that I'm still 'hot', and maybe he can feel all that hate I felt from Reshan. I hold out my hand, and he flinches.

“Do I have to take your hand, Commander?” I hiss under my breath. He gingerly clasps my hand and we shake, then I pass his hand to the Major. “These men should get the credit, Commander. See that they do, sir.” I take Ruth's hand and head away, saying to the Major, “It's all yours.” He's saluting me again, spotlighted by the blaze of the minicam lights and strobe effects from flashbulbs.

There's still a line of news people walking single-file from the terminal building, where guards are stopping and checking everyone. We're now by the side of the building, heading for the shadows near the chain-link gate. Several reporters see us, hurrying our way.

When we hit the shadows, Ruth says, “Ready, eyes closed.” BLIP! back to the library.

“Okay, kid, you're home,” I say, releasing her hand and slumping in a chair in front of the desk.

Ruth stands a few seconds with eyes closed, and I'm about to scan her, to make sure she's okay, when she says, “I still never felt any sensations, except maybe a coolness, then warmth when I knew we arrived.” She lays her hand on my arm. “Are you sure you're okay? Would you like some brandy?” she asks with worry lines creasing her forehead. My whole one-thirty-second inch of skin tingles where she gently strokes my arm.

“Thought you'd never ask,” I answer wearily as she goes for the booze. She comes back with bottles, my brandy, and her cognac. Some brandy drinkers say they never taste the difference between the two, but I always can.

Settling on the arm of the overstuffed chair I'm reclining in, Ruth muses, “Those poor reporters. What will they think when they get to the gate, and no one's there?”

Staring into my glass of brandy, I ask, “Are you worried about them?”

A little chuckle. “No, but I'd love to see their faces when they realize there isn't anywhere to go, short of climbing the twelve foot-high fence, with barbed-wire on the top.” In a more serious tone, she asks, “The firefight was pretty bloody, wasn't it?”

I just go, “Umm, he who lives by the sword.”

She kneels in front of me, looking up at my face. “Is it bothering you much? I mean, you look all drawn out.”

With the tiniest grin I can manage, I reply, “I think that's the after effects of my worm medicine.” She lets out a little sigh, peering down at the carpet between her knees. I watch her a few seconds. “Oh, hell, I can't be angry when you're trying to be nice, kid.” Rubbing my forehead, I explain, “I'm always affected by those types of men. So much hate, and they aren't even sure why they hate, and it's more than that. I guess it's man's inhumanity to man, plus I can't stand the smell of gunpowder.”

She props her elbows on her knees, studying my face. “That's really something, Arthur. Here I meet a man who lives through nuclear explosions, and he hates the smell of gunpowder. Kind of like an elephant afraid of an ant.” I shrug as she rises, standing in front of me. “Tell me, do you sleep much?” she asks with a hint of a smile.

“Oh sometimes, but usually about four to six hours. Why?” I ask as she glances at her watch.

“It's almost 1:00 a.m. and I'm far too wound-up to sleep right now. Usually when I can't sleep, I go down to my tub room, turn on the hot tub bubbles, and soak for a while. It's very relaxing. Want to try it?” She gives me a coy smile.

Never having been in a hot tub before, I think,
why not
. “Do you have a suit I can wear?”

Grabbing bottles and glasses, Ruth tilts her head with a crooked grin. “Sometimes, as intelligent as you are, you're just plain stupid. We don't wear any, we go nude.” She's gliding away, looking over her shoulder. I swear she's taunting me. “You've seen me naked a few times; I guess you can stand to see me naked again. Besides, once you sit down the bubbles come up to your neck, so you won't see anything. C'mon, follow me.” She's halfway to the door, so I follow, just as a calf to the slaughter.

We walk through several halls, down a few flight of stairs, and end up in a small gymnasium, with three big tubs in the center and tables scattered around the room. A few tables are heaped with big, thick towels.

Pointing across the room at a closed door, Ruth says, “That's the sauna, but it's not on now. This is the only tub I use, so it's always ready and hot. This used to be my father's private place, where neither Mother nor I could enter when he had important businessmen or government officials with him. They held secret meetings down here.” With a sad sigh, she says, “It's my private place now.”

Placing the bottles on the edge of the tub, she turns a switch; the water starts steaming and swirling with millions of tiny bubbles. She switches off the main lights, then switches on a smaller one over by the sauna, with just enough light to see by after your eyes adjust. Turning her back to me, she hurriedly undresses, then climbs slowly and gingerly into the tub.

“Ooh. It's pretty warm in here, be careful,” she warns, giving me an eyeful of soft skin.

Realizing she's had no sexual experience with a man, I wonder whether she knows the effect she's having on me.
Does she understand what she's implying by sitting naked in a hot tub with a man?
Ruth's leaning back against the edge, and the bubbles do indeed go up to her neck. But I can still see her breasts, bobbing slightly in the swirling water.

The hot tub is set halfway into the floor, so the rim stands at crotch level. Once I'm undressed, I crouch down as my hormones are fighting for attention. She glances up at me, sensing my hesitation and gives me an inviting smile.

Ruth slides over to the bottles, sloshing water around in the tub. “While you adjust to the water, I'll pour us a drink. C'mon, get in.”

With her back to me, I step into the bubbling water. Even though I'm trying not to be, I'm fairly hard, and embarrassed because of it. Doesn't make any sense, but there it is. I slowly sink into the hot, steamy water. She's right. The water is a hundred degrees and the bubbles feel as if I'm getting a massage.
Oooh, feels wonderful.
My muscles begin relaxing, except the one between my legs.

Ruth slides over by me, handing me a snifter glass of brandy, then slides back to where she's sitting across from me. We drink in silence awhile, me trying not to ogle her beckoning breasts. As I take a sip of brandy, she catches me staring at her erect nipples, and I quickly look away.

I have no idea what she's thinking, and I promised her I wouldn't invade her privacy any longer with my mental probes.
Is she still afraid of being touched by a man? Should I make the first move?
Becoming frustrated and unsure of myself, I try to stem my rising libido by thinking some unpleasant thoughts, like Reshan's skunk breath.
Nope, that's not working.
All these warm, caressing bubbles aren't helping my condition either. I shift on my seat in discomfort and embarrassment.

With a soft, sexy smile and smoldering, jade eyes, Ruth begins to slowly, teasingly stroke my outer thigh with her foot.

The little minx, she's been toying with me the whole time.
Finally able to relax, I release my pent-up anxiety with a loud sigh and settle more comfortably in the bubbling water.
How had I managed to live without my mental probes before?
It's the pits trying to second-guess people
.

Still trying not to spook Ruth, I slowly stroke her outer thigh with my foot. Our eyes are locked on each other as we take several sips of our drinks. The sexual tension's mounting, and I'm finding it harder and harder to restrain myself. I'm going to have to make a move, soon.

As if reading my mind, Ruth sets down her glass, then slowly half-crawls to me, like a lioness, kneeling over me. With a seductive smile, she takes my glass, then gives me a long, passionate kiss. My hormones immediately stand at full attention, which she acknowledges by grinding her hips into me.

When she finally pulls away from her long, probing kiss, I tell her in a breathless, husky voice, “I'm not making you do this, Ruth.”

Her silky hand snakes down, searching for my rock hard member. Grasping it, she slowly impales herself on me, saying breathlessly, “I'm doing it, dummy, now shut up.”

And she surely does.

Several hours later I rouse enough to find Ruth still on top of me, her head and arms lying on my shoulders. I have my knees up, and she's cradled between them and my chest. Sleeping with bent knees should've been uncomfortable, but it isn't, must be from the water. Next thing I know, the sun's shining through the skylight. I reach for my watch, 7:22 a.m. We've slept like this for almost five hours.

Ruth makes a small movement, yawning in my ear. “Uh, morning, Arthur.”

“I feel like a prune, kid,” I complain as she leans back against my knees, sending ripples through the bubbling water.

Reaching down between us, Ruth says with a coy smile and a green twinkle, “Oh no, you don't.”

We begin again, sloshing more water over the sides. Fifteen minutes later, with her head on my shoulder panting in my ear, me panting in hers, I become soft enough to slide out of her tight, warm body.

She leans back, kissing me lightly, asking, “Hungry?”

Sitting in a kneeling position, just the tips of her nipples are in the water, with the tiny bubbles playing hide-and-seek with them. I could've sat there mesmerized for hours, but she gives me a gentle nudge, asking again, “Are you hungry?”

With a satisfied grin, I lean my head back against the padded rim. “I don't know, I feel too good to worry about food right now.” I gently stroke one of her tempting nipples. She jumps as if I touched a nerve.

“Well, I am.” She kisses me, then shoves my head under water and steps out of the tub. “Stay here, I'll send coffee down.” Just that fast, she wraps in a towel, grabs her clothes, and leaves. I don't know about anyone else, but if I'd slept kneeling all night, I wouldn't be able to walk for several minutes, much less skip out like that.

Stretching out in the water, I luxuriate in the warm water. Waking in a hot tub, then making love to a sexy, beautiful woman is a sinful feeling. But I've always prided myself on being a pretty good sinner. I'm about ready to get out of the tub, when I hear a voice.

“Morning, sir, your coffee. Miss Ruth said you would take it here.” While setting her tray on a nearby table, then pouring a cup of coffee, Toni keeps staring into the water.

Now, I know she can't see my nether region, but I become embarrassed anyway, and sink a hair deeper. She's giving me this hungry look, slowly running the tip of her tongue over her teeth, which prompts me to read her mind. Ruth told her to give me anything I desired, and now she's envisioning several sexual acts I might want to do with her.

“Uh, thank you, Toni,” I say lamely, embarrassed.

She bats her lashes, giving me a flirty smile. “Is there anything else you'd like, sir? Anything?” She's toying with the top button of her dress, and it pops open to reveal her cleavage. She doesn't do anything else, just stands there giving me a seductive smile.

Damnit Ruth,
I think, but aloud stammer, “Uh, no, Toni, that's all. Just to be left alone to enjoy the water. Thank you.”

Her smile fades, then comes back. “Yes, sir.” She turns and flounces out.

I focus on Ruth, who's in the shower. *Ruth, why did you tell Toni to have sex with me?*

Again, Ruth gives a slight, wide-eyed jerk, exclaiming, “OH.” Then she relaxes, saying aloud, “I thought you'd enjoy a woman with more sexual experience.” Women.

*Ruth, thanks for the thought, but I don't want that kid after you. With Toni, it'd just be sex. What we did was making love.*

She's hugging herself in the shower. “But I thought men never passed up a free piece, Arthur.” She's washing her groin, washrag full of soap, moving very slowly.

I'm having difficulty concentrating: watching her wash herself is bothering me … a lot. *Ruth, some men can and do pass up casual sex, and I'm one of them.*

Her washrag is moving back and forth, back and forth. “I'm sorry Arthur, I meant well, and Toni was so jealous. Umm, forgive me?” she purrs. Damn. She's masturbating, very slowly, tightly holding the shower rod.

*Yes, Ruth. See you later, kid.* Disconnecting from her, I mentally push her pleasure center. The last feeling I receive from her, is a bright, red light shooting across her mind.

Clambering out of the tub, I dry off; gather my clothes, then teleport up to my room. I rinse off in the shower, change clothes and head for the kitchen. I'm ravenous. Gladys is busy at the sink, and as I'm pouring coffee, Ruth enters the kitchen. They speak quietly at the sink, then Ruth glides to me holding a newspaper.

“Arthur, you should sit down before you read this,” she says with worry in her eyes, as she hands me the paper. She pours brandy into my coffee. A lot of brandy.

On the front page of the newspaper is a picture of me standing in the doorway of the plane beside the terrorists. Next to the picture is one of Dobie, Breckenridge, and me. Then, there's another picture of Ruth and me hugging after the hostage situation, with Dobie standing right behind her. The headline reads: US MYSTERY MAN HELPS MI6 AND ALPHA TEAM DISPOSE OF TERRORISTS IN HIJACKING ATTEMPT!

“What?!” I sputter, staring with disbelief at the article. Gladys flinches, looking like a sheep in a wolf pack, very nervous.

Ruth picks up my cup, placing it in my hand. “Drink this, Arthur. I'm sure Dobie had no part in the leak or knew about the pictures until the newspapers came out this morning. The attempted hijacking is on all the radio stations, and every channel on the telly, too, along with your involvement. Same photographs and videotapes of everything the press filmed.”

Fuming, I sip that one hundred proof coffee.

“It seems the reporters recorded more in the dark than anyone imagined, but your name hasn't been mentioned once. Unfortunately, mine is, and the story goes on about how we pulled a fast disappearing act right under the noses of the press,” she explains in a rush.

As I open my mouth to speak, Ruth interrupts me, holding up her hand. “Dobie called me while I was upstairs. Er, right after I was done in the shower,” she says with a blush. “He says he's sorry and has put a lid on the videos. The videos show a small group of people disappearing from the doorway of the plane, then reappearing on the tarmac. And they recorded everything after that. He's very upset.”

“He's upset? How can I go on with my life with half the fucking reporters in town looking for me?” I yell, louder than I intended. Ruth flinches away as Gladys does what I call a short duck, her neck contracting.

I take a deep calming breath. “Excuse me, ladies, I'm sorry for my outburst.” I hope my apology sounds more sincere to them than it does to me. I guess so, because Gladys gives a tentative smile.

Gladys shuffles to my table. “Sir, I know this ain't none of my business, and I know that's you and Miss Ruth in the paper, but I wanted to say I'm glad we finally got one up on them filthy terrorists. And if there's anything I can do to help you, sir, well, you just tell old Gladys and you got it.” She curtsies and heads back to her sink.

Ruth pats my arm, reassuring me. “We're all proud to be a part of the rescuing of the hostages. Dobie released a story confirming the attack against the hijackers is a part of their latest tactic against terror and skyjacking. And even the PM says she's proud of her MI6 and Alpha Team.”

She's trying to console me, but it's not doing any good, yet. But that coffee she souped-up, that's helping.

Ruth continues. “Dobie explained you're on loan from Special Branch just for this purpose. He doesn't care as Special Branch is a part of MI6, so he'll still get the credit. But Special Branch is top-secret, and the reporters know they'll never learn anymore about who you are. So your identity is safe from the press.” She takes a big gulp of her tea then gives me a big, encouraging smile.

Ruth doesn't even realize she's trying to control me, as women automatically do with men as they inject themselves into their lives. And our personal relationship is exactly what Dobie and Tober were counting on. She is the key for them to use me, and it worked last night, sure as hell. But, for the first time since my interactions with governmental agencies, I don't mind. So I give her a return smile, pat her hand, and hold my cup out for more.

Right then, Toni swings through the doorway carrying the coffee tray. She glares at me, whispering to her mother, arms waving in the air, pointing in my direction. Gladys pushes her towards the kitchen door. “Shush, girl, get busy on the bedrooms now, go on with you.” Ruth looks at Gladys with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, ma'am, she fancies she saw Mr. Arthur in the tub room and he just disappeared! Daft she is, ma'am, too much telly.”

Ruth shoots me a stern look.

I tell her telepathically, *No way. She was long gone when I teleported out of there.*

Ruth leans towards me, whispering, “Unless she was watching you through the door. She does that quite often.”

I say, *Damn, she could've been. I was occupied with you at the time.*

Ruth gives me a sultry smile. “Yes, you were, and thank you. Don't worry, I'll speak to her.” She pats my hand and leaves. I guess she's a patter.

Shuffling back from the stove, Gladys places a heaping plate of sunny-side eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes in front of me. As I pick up my fork to take my first bite of the delicious smelling breakfast, she says, “Hope you're hungry, sir. I figured you had a hungry type night.” She winks at me, then turns back to her sink.

Women.