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He dismissed the closet with a, “Down.” Then, summoned the desk with an “Up console.”
She repeated the words to herself, memorizing them. How easily that came after one session with Leesa and her hypnosis.
The whirring started again and from out of the floor arrived a small black console in the form of another solid square block that stopped short of her waistline. A screen lit up, ready for her commands.
“What’s down there? A warehouse of stuff?”
It was his turn to laugh. “Yes, basically. It moves around on tracks. Although, sometimes it goes wrong. Things get stuck.”
She’d always had the impression the Vendu were perfect when it came to technology. Hearing there were flaws was reassuring. “As long as my things aren’t left down there forever.”
“No. A mechanic will crawl about and fix it. It’s only happened once.” When Jamen grinned, it sent a tingle down her spine. He had a congenial smile even when he smirked.
He left her to unpack and shower.
They ate on the dining table that appeared from underneath the tiles. The whole idea of a secret storage floor intrigued her.
“Why not keep the furniture available all the time?” she asked, spooning numerous little cubes of something into her bowl from the heated carton. It turned out there was an oven that came up out of the floor.
“Space is a premium for most Vendu. Furniture is a luxury. We don’t need things all day, every day, so why have them cluttering up the space?”
“Everything is about efficiency, isn’t it?” She finished another mouthful of something that resembled a sliced vegetable and something else fishy in taste.
He shrugged. “We prefer it so,” he said simply.
She tried a different line of conversation. “What did you do today?” The question was the sort of thing her mum asked her dad during dinner.
He stared at her blankly for a few seconds. “I talked to people.”
“I mean what is it you talk about?” She still had little understanding of his role in government beyond his responsibility for his constituents, whoever they were. “I’m supposed to work for you soon.”
“Logistics,” he said. “The transport of goods and raw materials across the Empire. It’s what I help legislate.”
She wished he had a more enthusiastic brief. “Big empire. Lots of transporters.”
“Yes.” He paused to eat a mouthful. “Piracy is the issue. We need the military to agree to providing support ships. Once you’ve mastered Vendian, you’ll be helping me collate data for a report on pirates.”
She remembered old books with pictures of swashbuckling pirates with eye patches and swords. “They steal your shipments?”
“They kill and steal,” he said, sharping his tone. “Now isn’t the time for talking about it.”
She smoothed out the wrinkles that crisscrossed her pants. He watched her, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He often stared at her, unblinking, almost mesmerized by the slightest movement of her hands or face.
“Clothes,” he said softly.
“Yes?” she said expectantly. Was it time to try out some projected outfits?
“Didn’t I say you should keep them off?” He pushed back his chair.
“When we eat?” She shivered, but it wasn’t due to any draft.
“It’s more about my choice. What I want you to wear. At the moment, I don’t want anything. I want to see that lovely pale human skin. Your little nipples harden into smooth stones when I look at you. I want you to breathe slowly, so that your breasts rise and fall in time to the throbbing ache in my balls. When you stand, I want your hands to your sides, your eyes lowered, and your lips quivering with anticipation.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. He painted an accurate picture of everything she could do for him, if she had the ability to move. She’d frozen to her seat with her hands crushed into the space between her thighs.
“I… I…” The words stuck in her mouth. Her dry tongue cleaved upward and glued itself to her palate.
“Is your ass still hot and red?” he asked, unfastening his jacket with one hand while the other pushed the bowls to one side.
