Dancing With Bears - Michael Swanwick [20]
They had not been listening to the service long when, to Surplus’s absolute amazement, Zoësophia backed into a niche at the rearmost of the church and pulled him after her, where they could not be seen by the congregation.
The niche was small, and there was not entirely enough room for two people to avoid intimate contact. Surplus was so intensely aware of Zoësophia’s body as to be somewhat short of breath. She placed her kerchief-covered mouth by his ear and murmured, “I know that you are drawn to me. I can see it in your eyes. And in other places as well.” Her gloved hand passed slowly down his body, stopping at the fly of his trousers. “Perhaps you have also noticed that I find myself powerfully drawn to you in return. But as you know”—her voice caught in a marvelous oral simulation of a blush—“our feelings for each other cannot be consummated. For reasons you well understand.”
Surplus whispered back, “You surprise and delight me, O Flower of Byzantium. To think that one such as I…Well, I am quite overwhelmed.” Which was not entirely true. Surplus understood perfectly the power his unusual form had over the imaginations of adventurous women. But he knew better than to say so. “Nevertheless, I must turn our conversation to less pleasant matters.”
Finger by finger, Zoësophia’s hand closed about Surplus’s swollen member in a manner which, even through the interposing media of glove and trousers, was so exquisitely pleasurable as to have surely required many hours of practice. “Oh?”
“Yes. I must warn you that the ambassador has hatched a mad scheme to exterminate the Pearls before he dies.” Quickly, he sketched out the details.
“Ah.” Her hand tightened slightly. “I wondered if you were going to tell me.”
Reproachfully, Surplus said, “Madam, I am a gentleman.”
“You and I obviously have different understandings of what that word entails. But let that go. I have been reliably informed that you and your comrade have agreed to this plan.” Her hand tightened further, to the point that the pleasure Surplus felt was evenly balanced with pain. The creations of the Caliph’s geneticists, he recalled, were often inhumanly strong. Surely she wouldn’t…? “Tell me exactly what your part in this is, Gospodin de Plus Precieux.”
“We agreed,” Surplus said, and with alarm felt Zoësophia’s grip tighten yet more, “solely in order to keep Prince Achmed from issuing his command directly to the Neanderthals. Who, lacking the ability to disobey him, would have immediately turned his vile intentions into fact. We adopted the regrettable policy of untruth solely to prevent a grave crime against Beauty.”
“You desire that my dear sisters and I live, then?” That vise-tight hand twisted ever so slightly.
Surplus gasped. “Yes!”
“I assure you that such is our most fervent wish as well. The question is—how is this glad end to be achieved?” Her grip was like steel. Surplus had no doubt whatsoever that if she found his answer displeasing, it would be the easiest thing in the world for her to rip his manhood entirely free of his body.
Speaking quickly, Surplus said, “Oh, that my friend and I had resolved entirely almost immediately after the foul words had left Prince Achmed’s mouth. All that we lacked was a way to confer with you in private.”
He explained.
With mingled relief and regret, he felt Zoësophia’s hand release him.
After services, Surplus returned to the Gulagsky mansion. Zoësophia, he noted, went up the stairs with