Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

Did I time-travel to medieval Europe? A squire?

"Uh," I glance at the shutters and see the sun has set. "I, um… my squire?"

Zed smiles, his perfect teeth lighting up his face and brown eyes. He's probably in his mid- or late twenties. Holding out a hand, he helps me up. "Your attendant. Call me Zed. I imagine you're exhausted and have many questions. While I can't let you rest any longer, I'll answer what I can as we prepare you for the evening."

I take his hand, my own feeling sticky and looking pallid next to his rich, dark skin. Getting to my feet, I try to sniff my pits and get a whiff discretely, my nose wrinkling when a stink of stale sweat hits my nasal cavity.

My squire laughs. "Not to worry. We'll get you cleaned up."

"Thanks," I say as I follow him out the door. "I'm not usually so… fragrant. It's the heat. Humidity is my nemesis. "

"Then you're in for a battle of wills." He grins and leads me into the elevator, chattering along the way, though I'm too amped up to pay attention. We take it to ground level, moving quickly out of the dormitory and along a short path to a sprawling one-story building. The moment we step inside, I'm surrounded by a low din coming from a space beyond the foyer. Zed grips my elbow and steers me toward a huge room with a high ceiling covered in murals much like the ones in the main building. Everywhere I look, squires and their charges are bustling about, the latter barely clothed, if at all, as they're taken to various rooms or hallways that line the walls.

"What is this place?" I ask, plucking at my blouse and realizing it'll soon come off along with everything else.

"The Oasis."

"It doesn't look like Ready Player One," I murmur, my eyes widening as a female squire leads a man with the biggest dick I've ever seen, not that I've seen many, across the hall. Holy shit!

Zed follows my gaze and laughs. "Titus is popular among the Masters, though he's currently Madame Solara's favorite."

I'd heard of Madame Solara. Anyone who knows anything about the Pleasure Academy knows who she is. Appointed by the board five years ago, she turned a multimillion dollar business into a billion-dollar empire, with copycats popping up all over the world. Born and raised on the island of Tahiti, she was the epitome of a self-made woman, rising in the ranks of the corporate world until she set her sights on the Pleasure Academy. There was no stopping Solara Vaite. Forbes called her The Polynesian Tigress .

Note to self: Don't piss off the madame by ogling her favorite's enormous package.

Leading me to one of the many hallways off the main room, Zed explains the purpose of The Oasis. As the name suggests, it is a place of respite and rejuvenation. Novices and Acolytes, being the lowest ranks, are brought to the building by their squires, where they're ‘prepared' for the enjoyment of the Mavens and Masters. It explains why there's no shower in my room.

I'm realizing how much of the island remains hidden from public view. Cameras are prolific, but it's become clear they are strategically placed so the viewers only know so much.

Zed takes me to an opulent space resembling a posh spa, with tables, reclining chairs, baths, and tiled showers along walls and in alcoves. My body freezes, feet anchored to the ground as it dawns on me: this shit is about to get real.

He waves over a young man in a pale pink coat, and I feel my palms sweat. Once that begins, the rest of my body follows suit, and in moments, beads of perspiration plaster my face. My heart hammers as the fresh-faced attendant smiles, his green eyes sparkling.

"Zed," he exclaims, "is this your Novice?"

"It is." Zed motions toward me. "This is Eden. Eden, meet Oliver."

I forget how to talk and stare at him.

Oliver chuckles. "Classic deer-in-headlights. I love her." He reaches out and tugs my hand, pulling me away from Zed, who suddenly feels like a lifeline even though I met him fifteen minutes ago .

I crane my neck to look at Zed, eyes pleading though my mouth is dry, and only a squeak of distress makes it past my lips. He smiles and waves me on.

Patting my hand, Oliver leads me to a deep, claw-foot bathtub. It's half full, and when we stop, I stare at it like an idiot. Blood rushes through my body, the sound filling my ears. Oliver's voice is muffled as he lifts my arms and tugs off my blouse. I blink when his face pops into view.

"Are you all right, hun?" He disappears for a moment and then returns with a glass of ice water. "Here, drink this."

I lift the glass to my lips and take a long pull. As the cool liquid flows down my throat, my body unlocks, and I force myself to relax and be in the moment. Wiping my hand over my mouth, I grip the glass and mumble an apology.

Oliver smiles, eyes sparkling. "You're not the first Novice to go catatonic. Can you finish undressing, or do you need more help?"

You know, I never went to summer camp. I never took a creepy gym class where everyone got buck-naked and showered together. Bathing has always been just me and my shower nozzle, and boy can that nozzle work some magic when on the right setting. Stripping down in front of a complete stranger on day one is strange, to say the least. I mean, I knew this was coming. Half the fucking island is in their birthday suit, but I didn't know what it would feel like until now.

"I… uh… I can do it."

Unclasping my bra, I hand it to him, watching his complete indifference to my jiggling rack. Taking a deep breath, I slip off my sandals and pull down my skirt and panties, face flaming when I realize the latter reeks of crotch sweat. Oliver takes no notice, simply gathering up the clothes and putting them into a labeled bag, which I assume will go to a laundry facility.

He holds my hand, indicating the tub, and I enter the deliciously warm water. But the moment it hits my chafed thighs, I hiss.

He clicks his tongue. "Humidity and lovely curves don't mix in the tropics. I've got a cream that'll soothe that."

I nod and sink into the water. The next few minutes feel like something from Downton Abby, with my handsome attendant washing my hair and every other part of me as I stand or sit in the tub. Ten minutes later and it's time to get out, water sloshing as I step into a towel that he wraps around my body before leading me to a long table covered in white linen.

Following his cues, I stretch out and grit my teeth, and he rubs the towel along my skin from between my toes to the folds of my pussy to the heavy weight of my hair. He's efficient, and the whole thing is rather impersonal, which puts me at ease. I almost groan when he starts to brush my hair. If I could choose one intimate thing that I'd always be in the mood for, it would be having someone brush or run their fingers through my hair. From the tingling along my scalp to the sensations that crawl across my skull and down my neck, it's positively erotic.

I must have let a small moan of pleasure escape because Oliver laughs and says, "My girlfriend loves it when I brush her hair. It's a sure way to get her in the mood. "

"Your girlfriend? Doesn't it bother her that you… uh… work with so many women?"

"She's not the jealous type." He runs the brush through my blonde strands, gently working out the tangles. "I may be surrounded by beautiful women like yourself all day, but I only have eyes for her."

I make a noncommittal sound. I don't know that I would be able to handle being around naked men all day and not at least have some stirrings of desire. Kudos to him. She's a lucky woman.

Zed appears at his side when he steps away from the table for what feels like an inspection. Pulling one of my thighs to the side, he points to the chafed skin. "Eden will need her skin treated twice daily until her body acclimates."

Oliver nods and grabs a small jar, dipping a finger inside and spreading the cream on my inner thighs. It feels fabulous.

"I assume you'd never waxed until recently," Zed says, looking at my hack job.

"Nope. For some reason, ripping out my pubes wasn't something I aspired to do."

Zed shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oliver will make it as painless as possible."

"Oh, goody."

The next few minutes are spent with me lying on the table like a slab of meat while the two of them discuss how to wax, primp, and prep me for whatever shenanigans are about to occur. By the time they finish, my pits and vag are as smooth as the day I was born, my eyebrows tweezed, my face buffed, and I look like I've had a Beverly Hills blowout as my hair hangs in waves to my waist.

Zed looks me over as I stand awkwardly, feeling like a prize pig at the country fair. His mouth curves up in a broad grin. "The Masters are going to love you."