“Hi,” she said, weakly. Limpopo exhaled, closed her eyes, put her head back and sank in to her ears. Gretyl drew Iceweasel close, and when Tam moved away, she slung a big, muscular, freckled arm around her and brought her into the embrace.
Despite all the skin, there was something chaste about the onsen, or so Iceweasel told herself, as she remembered the kiss, the dry-humping she and Gretyl had done in the underground campus, and made herself pretend her stomach muscles weren’t jumping at the feeling of Gretyl’s breasts on hers. Then there were Tam’s breasts on her side, her face in the crook made by Gretyl and Iceweasel’s faces, her penis brushing against her thigh and making her stomach muscles jump again.
“Get your friends into the water and make some introductions, girl,” Limpopo said, not opening her eyes.
They disentangled slowly, then, on impulse, she squeezed Gretyl to her, kissing her cheek, jaw, earlobe. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, smell of burned hair in her nostrils.
“Me too, kid,” she said, and stepped gingerly into the water.
*
They took a long time to immerse themselves, everything complicated by Gretyl’s burned arm, and by the time they were settled, Limpopo reached her limit and stood and stepped out. She fetched a pail of ice water from the coldest pool and brought it to the edge of theirs, wiping herself down using her small towel. Gretyl was oblivious, surrendering to the water, but Tam watched with caution and Iceweasel watched Tam.
“How many casualties?” Limpopo said, after Tam caught them up on the story of the last of the evacuation.
“Three dead,” Tam said, in a flat voice. “CC didn’t make it.”
Iceweasel was numb. She had carried CC’s charred body. Now it was dead.
“Lots of injured, too,” Tam said. Iceweasel got out of the pool. She wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come. She crossed her arms and leaned her head against a wall, breathing into her diaphragm. “I’m okay,” she said, as she heard someone—Tam?—start to get out of the pool. “Give me a minute.”
Tam and Limpopo talked, but she tuned them out, focused on her breath and the hot/cold play of air and water on her body. A finger tapped her shoulder and she grudgingly looked up—at Seth.
“Hail the conquering heroes!” Then, showily: “For I am become worlds, destroyer of death!”
She smiled despite herself. He was such a dick, but he wasn’t a bad guy. “That’s good, Seth. Did it take you long to come up with?”
He shook his head. He was naked and goose-pimpled, and she found his body—so recently familiar to the point of being dull—was fascinating, in the way of things that were once freely taken and are now forbidden. “I stole it,” he said. “Some dude’s manifesto out of San Francisco. Those Singularity freaks in the quake-zones, they’re having religious feelings. It’s quip-city on their hangouts. That was my favorite. Amateurs plagiarize, artists steal.”
“You stole that from Picasso,” she said.
“Did I? I don’t think so. I haven’t read any of his books. I must have stolen it from someone who stole it from him.”
She didn’t rise to the bait, though she noticed her campus friends look up. She knew Seth’s game, and didn’t want to play. She was glad to see him, but she and Seth had played enough for one lifetime.
She heard Tam leave the water, looked up to watch Tam help Gretyl out, felt an unwelcome jealous stab, saw Seth notice. Seth couldn’t get past his scenester instincts, and he was a keen observer of relationships. She saw his eyes flick down to Tam’s cock, up to her breasts, back up to her face.
“Need some help?” he said, taking two steps their way, offering a hand to Tam, who was off-balance, leaning over to get Gretyl out without wetting her dressing. Tam took his hand. He gave her his winning smile, which was, in fact, fucking winning. When they’d gone walkaway, Seth had been in the incipient stages of beer-gut-itis. Rebuilding the B&B, all the walking and lifting, the anti-shlepper challenge of going into the woods with nothing and relying on the drones and your wits had leaned him out and given him tree-trunk quads and broad shoulders that went well with his mat of tight-curled chest hair. Iceweasel found her own scenester spidey-sense as Tam took him in with an up-and-down sweep, click-click-click, and she felt more unwelcome jealousy. Stupid brain. She wished for an infographic she could sweep her fingers along to banish petty thoughts.
Limpopo sidled over. “How about the warm pool now?” It was the temperature of a cup of tea left out for twenty minutes, the kind you could sit in and socialize. Limpopo was suggesting that they have a nice, civilized chat.
“Great,” she said, and let Limpopo lead her.
They took up station at opposite corners, arms draped over the edge. Iceweasel looked over her left arm, the dark bruise and scrapes. The hot water and the cool air made it glow a vivid pink. It ached distantly.
The rest of the party eased in, sending the water level up so little waterfalls cascaded out into the drains. Seth was very solicitous of Gretyl, who regarded him with detached amusement as he fussed, darting to offer her a hand. Iceweasel got the impression that some of this was for her benefit, but that much more was for Tam’s, and possibly Limpopo’s.
It was striking how the presence of a man changed so much about their dynamic, made it about invisible lines of attention. She shrugged, winced at her shoulder, switched her gaze to Gretyl, felt that slow curling low in her belly again. It was scary, the feelings that came up when she looked at Gretyl. Gretyl looked back at her, skewered her on her frank stare, and a shiver raced from her toes to her hairline. Gretyl’s stare said You’re mine and Will you be mine? at the same time. Strong/weak. Soft/firm. Like Gretyl, big arms and muscular back, round soft belly and huge, soft breasts.
“CC was backed up,” Tam said, breaking in.
Well of course he was. He was core to the project.
“Were the others?” She realized she didn’t even know the names of the dead, assumed if Tam hadn’t told her the names they must not be people she was close to, but who knew with Tam?
“No,” she said. “They weren’t.” She looked angry.
“But CC was.”