Immersed In Pleasure/Submit To Desire by Tiffany Reisz

“I’m telling you, guys, they’re mythical creatures. They’re like, I don’t know…unicorns or mermaids,” Christian said.

At the mention of mermaids, Derek started paying attention to the conversation again. For the last five minutes, as Mark and Christian discussed their women troubles—specifically how many ex-boyfriends their current girlfriends had—Derek had tuned them out, his eyes fixed on an empty table across the nightclub.

“Oh, they’re real.” Derek raised his Old-Fashioned to his lips. “I knew one once.”

“A virgin?” Mark asked. “A virgin over the age of twenty-one? I don’t buy it. They don’t exist.”

Derek smiled into his drink. “Yes, she was a virgin,” he said. “And a mermaid.”

“Bullshit.” Christian threw his napkin at Derek.

“No, he means it.” Mark leaned back and gave Derek a long look. “Plus, he’s the pretty one. If any of us were going to bag a virgin mermaid, it would be Derek Prince.”

Derek half-laughed and rubbed his forehead. She’d called him pretty too. God, had it really been a whole year? He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He didn’t show it to Mark and Christian, merely weighed it in the palm of his hand briefly before tucking it into his pocket again.

“Believe it or not, it’s true. And I saw her first right over there,” he said, pointing to the table he’d been staring at a moment earlier.

“Over there?” Christian asked, a note of real concern in his voice. “At the VIP table? Kingsley Edge’s table?”

Kingsley Edge, a wealthy half-French businessman of both renown and ill-repute, owned Cirque du Nuit, the club Derek, Mark, and Christian frequented at least once a week. According to rumor, a series of catacombs resided under Cirque du Nuit, catacombs that started under the club and stretched out underneath New York City like underground tentacles. Legend had it that all of Kingsley Edge’s various clubs could be reached through the catacombs.

“Didn’t know that then,” Derek said. “It was a year ago. I was waiting for Ireland to show up—”

“Dude, I’m so glad you got rid of her,” Mark interjected.

“And I saw this girl,” Derek continued and felt his mind leaving the present and swimming back into the past. “This amazing girl with wet hair.”

At his first glance of the girl, he thought she was one of those women who went bat-shit crazy with the hair gel. But when she moved, her hair moved with her. Not hair gel, just water. The white camisole she wore reached only to the bottom of her ribcage and had gone nearly transparent from the water in her hair. When she stepped into the blue light, he could just make out her pale pink nipples under the fabric. That alone would have held his attention all night except for one thing—she wasn’t just wet and wearing transparent clothes, she was beautiful. Her dark brown hair hung in dripping ringlets over her face and down her back. She looked young, maybe only twenty or twenty-one, too young for this club anyway. Her large dark eyes and light-olive skin sported no makeup that he could discern. Watching her, he noticed she moved uneasily. A noise came from the edge of the club and she flinched, her eyes flashing wide open like a startled animal’s. Twisting her hands together, she seemed uncomfortable in her surroundings and utterly out of her element.

Derek hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Other than her little white camisole she wore a white skirt that rested low on her hips and revealed the full expanse of her flat stomach and lower back. The skirt clung tightly to her slim legs, all the way down to her ankles.

She must have sensed his gaze because she turned and stared back. Derek knew he shouldn’t be staring, that he must seem like a psycho to her. But the look she returned wasn’t angry, only inquisitive. Cocking her head to the side like a curious cat, she watched him watch her.

“So she was wearing all white and was wet from head to toe?” Christian asked.

Derek nodded. “I know. Sounds crazy, right? Gets crazier.”

“What happened?”

“My table caught on fire,” Derek said. “She saved me.”

A man of about thirty-five with dark hair pulled back into a roguish ponytail sat with the girl. He wore a dark grey Victorian-era suit and riding boots. Derek rarely noticed other men, but he couldn’t deny that the unusually handsome man the wet-haired girl sat with had an aura of power and mystery about him. The man snapped his fingers and the girl immediately turned her head to the sound. She drew close to him and the man whispered something in her ear.

Smiling, the girl pulled away. Derek’s stomach tightened as she left the VIP area and walked gingerly down the steps, headed toward his table. In her skintight skirt she came to him, her steps nervous and delicate. As she walked, he noticed for the first time that she wore no shoes.

“Hello,” Derek said as she sat across from him.

The girl stared at him for a moment. “Your table’s on fire,” she said.

Derek tried to discern if she was joking. He saw nothing in her eyes but innocent sincerity.

She pointed at his centerpiece. A black candle and a blue rose decorated every table in the club. His rose had dipped its head too near the flame and now quietly smoldered.

“Holy shit.” Looking around wildly, he started to reach for his glass, but it contained an Old-Fashioned. Alcohol plus fire would equal a nightclub in ashes.

The girl laughed a soft tinkling laugh. Slowly she rose and leaned over the table. Taking her long brown hair into her hands, she twisted it, wringing just enough water out to douse the burning rose.

Because he didn’t know what else to do, he laughed. “I’m glad this club has such gorgeous firemen on duty.”

She ran her hands through her wet hair and separated it into three sections. “I’m not a fireman,” she said, humming as she braided her long hair with nimble fingers.

“What are you then?”

“A mermaid.”

She stretched out her leg toward him. Derek didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at but then he saw them. At first he thought her feet sported silver foot jewelry of some kind. But no, metallic silver tattoos of fins adorned the tops of her small, pale feet.

“No way,” Mark interrupted. “She was one of those mermaids?”

“She was,” Derek said, taking a sip of his drink. “I didn’t think they were real either. Not until that night.”

The Manhattan Mermaids. Believed to be the most beautiful women in the city, they entertained the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world. Kingsley Edge didn’t just own Cirque du Nuit. He owned four or five other clubs, some of them so secretive they didn’t even have names. One of the most exclusive was known as Fathoms. Fathoms supposedly had the usual sort of chic-chic nightclub stuff—cocktail waitresses, ridiculously opulent decor. But in addition to that, Fathoms had one thing no other club in the city had—mermaids. One could tell a mermaid if you met her on the street by two things, Derek had heard—they wore little silver mermaid pendants around their necks, and they had silver and blue metallic tattoos on their feet and ankles. Derek looked the girl up and down—check and check.

“You’re a real mermaid?”

She gave him a mischievous grin. “Come find out.”

Just then, Ireland decided to make her appearance—an hour late. For almost the entire hour, he’d been desperate for her to show up. Now that he saw her breezing through the door and heading his way, he fervently wished he’d been stood up.

“I can’t,” he said.

The tiniest glint of disappointment shone in the girl’s midnight blue eyes. In such an open innocent face, the sadness rebuked him. He felt as if he’d knocked a baseball through a stained-glass window.

“Then goodbye,” she sighed. “I’ll never see you again.”

She said the words with such earnestness that Derek knew he would be the idiot of the century to miss this chance. It wasn’t only that The Manhattan Mermaids were so legendary that he still couldn’t quite believe he’d been talking to one. It was her—this girl—not the rumors and legends who’d gotten to him. She’d saved his life…or at the very least his centerpiece. And she had such an innocence about her. He didn’t meet innocent people in his line of work. As a defense attorney, he was often called a shark. He briefly wondered if sharks and mermaids were natural enemies or allies.

As Ireland reached the table, Derek made up his mind.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Couldn’t remember if we were meeting at nine or ten,” she said, shrugging. He couldn’t recall just then why they were dating. Brainy and beautiful with her white-blond hair and her legs that went on for eternity, Ireland was fantastic in bed and—unlike his ex-wife—wasn’t afraid to try anything. But she could also be cold and arrogant when she wanted to be. Tonight, she apparently wanted to be.

“We’ll meet at your place at eleven and then I’ll be an hour late.” He stood up. “See you at midnight.”

“Wait, where the hell are you going?” Ireland demanded. “I just got here.”

“And I’m just leaving.”

Derek raced to the VIP table and found it depressingly empty. His mermaid and the dark-haired man had vanished. The only sign the girl had even been there was a small puddle of water on the floor by the chair she’d been sitting in.

Water…. Derek stopped looking around and started looking down. Not far from the VIP table he found the watery outline of a bare footprint on the floor. A few feet further, he saw another tiny puddle of water glinting on the shiny dark blue tile. The drops led to a door tucked in a corner.

A metal Employees Only sign decorated the door and gave Derek pause. In a club owned by Kingsley Edge, breaking the rules led to unpleasant consequences. But he’d abandoned one of the sexiest women in New York at his table for this chance, and he wasn’t going to miss it.

He threw open the door and found a stairwell. Racing down the stairs, he prayed the water on the floor had come from her and not some clumsy waitress. At the landing two levels below Cirque du Nuit, he knew he was on the right track. Breathing in, he inhaled warm wet air scented with a trace of chlorine. He passed through another door and stopped immediately when he discovered he wasn’t in Cirque du Nuit anymore or even the club’s basement.

He was in Fathoms.

* * *

Lookingaround the dimly lit club, Derek couldn’t believe the legend was true. The underground catacombs did connect all of Kingsley Edge’s clubs.

Derek hid behind a column and studied his surroundings. The club had dozens of interconnected swimming pools scattered about the large room. Between and about them sat tables and chairs—chairs occupied by the highest of high society. Derek recognized several faces—with a real estate mogul for a mother and the deputy mayor for a father, Derek could recognize the wealthy and famous on sight. And everywhere he looked he spied money and power.

At the center of the room stood a two-story high transparent column about twelve feet across. In it swam a girl completely naked but for a silver belly chain. The silver fins tattooed on her feet, ankles and thighs glinted in the light. He tore his eyes from the column to another corner of the room. Another girl equally beautiful and equally naked, sat on a large rock at the edge of one of the pools. A man Derek recognized as a city councilman said something to the girl. She rolled her eyes and splashed water in his face. The gesture made the man laugh as if it was some sort of honor to be splashed by such a woman.

Derek tore his eyes from the scene and searched the club for his mermaid. Looking up, he saw a metal walkway at the top of the large column and a flash of white skirt. He found a staircase behind him, and at the top of the staircase he came suddenly face to face with his mermaid.

“Hello,” she said, standing in a private alcove next to the top of the central swimming pool. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“I forgot to thank you for putting out my fire,” he said, wincing at how stupid he sounded.

She ran her fingers through her hair, freeing it from its braid. “I’m waiting,” she said, humming.

“For….”

“For you to thank me. You said you forgot to.”

Derek shook his head. “Right. Thank you for putting out my fire. I didn’t mean to stare at you upstairs. I’ve never seen a mermaid before.”

“I stared back,” she said simply.

“You did. Why?”

“I like your face.”

“You like my face?”

“I do. It’s pretty. But not girl pretty. Handsome prince pretty. And you have hair that’s wavy like water. Even your eyes are water-colored, and your shirt. I probably thought you were a merman.”

Derek looked down. He wore black slacks and a black vest over his French blue Oxford shirt. A little too GQ for him, he only wore these clothes because Ireland liked them so much.

“I’m not a merman. But I am a prince. Derek Prince,” he said and held out his hand to her.

“Xenia.” She ignored his hand and instead leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. He shivered as her warm soft lips pressed into his cheek. “I have to go now, but you can stay if you like.”

“Go where?”

“Underwater.”

At that Xenia took a step back and pulled her camisole off. Her skirt came off next, and she stood before him completely naked.

Derek felt his eyes go as wide as hers. Although a sight to behold, the club paled before Xenia’s naked flesh. Thin but with soft girlish curves, Xenia barely looked human to him. The silver metallic scale tattoos graced not only her feet and calves but the sides of her thighs and the edge of her hips. Her breasts, the perfect size, appeared designed to rest in the palm of his hand. A healthy red-blooded man, he couldn’t help but stare at her breasts and between her legs. Completely smooth and hairless she seemed a being of eternal youth. His body tensed at the sight of such pristine flesh so unashamedly on display.

The girl, Xenia, reached for a silver chain and fastened it around her stomach. Little silver scales hung off it and dangled around her hips. She clasped silver bracelets on each wrist and connected them to the silver rings on her fingers. Around her forehead went a heavier silver chain like a small circlet. The body jewelry shimmered in the low light and rendered Xenia a creature of ethereal beauty.

She strode to the edge of the tall pool and dove gracefully into it. Derek ran back down the stairs and up to the side of the column. Around and around she swam, her long brown hair flowing behind her. She spun in slow graceful circles, arched under and around, and seemed to need almost no air. Derek watched her, unable to look at anything else. She swam to the edge of the column and smiled at him through the water. He pressed his hand to the glass and she laid her hand against the inside to meet his. But she pulled back quickly and swam off again.

“Ahh…that little one. She may be my favorite,” said a lightly accented man’s voice from behind him. Derek turned around and saw the man from Cirque du Nuit, the one in the Victorian suit and the ponytail standing behind him with a cocktail in his hand.

“She’s amazing,” Derek agreed. “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Merci. I found her myself.”

Derek stared at the man. Merci, he’d said. Found her…

“Oh my God. You’re Kingsley Edge,” Derek said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge into your club. She told me I should—”

The man shook his finger and tsk-tsked him in a manner that was infuriatingly French. “I know who you are, Mr. Prince. And I know who your parents are. Consider yourself on the guest list.”

Derek followed Kingsley to the bar. They sat on stools side by side and said nothing until the bartender—a beautiful young blonde woman wearing a shimmering sea-green dress—brought them both fresh drinks.

“Ah, Urs,” Kingsley said to the bartender as he took a drink of his Sidecar. “You are too good to me.”

“Nothing’s too good for our King.” She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as Xenia had to Derek.

“So you really are Kingsley Edge?” Derek asked. While Kingsley Edge’s clubs were famous, the man himself was infamous.

Kingsley shrugged, a small smile playing over his lips. “It’s a living.”

“A very good one. My God, these girls are incredible.” Derek counted at least a dozen stunningly beautiful naked girls swimming about the club or lounging on large rocks with their decorated feet tucked to the side. Not even the mermaids of lore could be more spectacular than the ones right in front of him.

“Incredible, yes. In many ways,” Kingsley agreed. “My mermaids are my pride and joy. I went to Japan ten years ago and met a geisha. Such a woman I’d never seen before. How she talked and teased and entertained us all. I recall thinking the world needed more women like that—beautiful, mysterious, untouchable.”

“Untouchable?” Derek asked. He glanced at Xenia, who continued to swim languid graceful arcs in the transparent column.

“Oui,” Kingsley said. “Untouchable…untouched. This is no gentlemen’s club or brothel. If you’re here for a lap dance, you’re in the wrong place. All my mermaids are virgins.”

Derek nearly spat his drink out. “Virgins?”

“Bien sur. Those who come here wish to see something truly unusual, something magical or mythical. Beautiful women, naked, exquisite, and all virginal.”

“Even Xenia?” Derek asked.

“Even she.”

“But she must be in her twenties, right?”

“She is. She started here at age eighteen and has been a mermaid three years now. I saw in the paper a little article about a girl who’d broken a record for holding her breath underwater. I met her the next week, and she’s been here ever since.”

“But that’s crazy,” Derek protested. “Why would women this gorgeous choose—”

“If I offered you an extraordinary sum of money to go a year without sex, would you do it?”

Derek stared at Kingsley and burst into laughter. “So it’s the opposite of prostitution here?”

“I pay them to not have sex. As long as they stay intact, they can work very few hours, meet the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world, and leave whenever they wish. Most depart after a year or two with a rich boyfriend, a very large bank account, or both. Many, like Xenia, stay longer.”

Just then a redheaded mermaid slid off her rock and dove back into the water.

“Come back, Alanna,” the man at the table called after her. “Please?”

“No, go away,” the girl, Alanna, said when she surfaced, “I don’t like your tie. It’s ugly.”

Kingsley chuckled softly at the scene. “Mermaids,” he said to Derek, “have cold hearts. To win the heart of one takes much perseverance.”

Shaking his head, Derek could only gaze around him in awe. He understood it all now. Beautiful virginal women who were trained to be unimpressed by the wealth and power that surrounded them…no wonder this club attracted such a high caliber clientele. Seducing a stripper was child’s play. But netting a virginal mermaid? Now that was a feat.

“But how do you know they’re virgins?” Derek asked. “Can’t they sneak out and do whatever they want?”

“We have ways of knowing.” Kingsley took another sip of his drink.

“What ways?” Derek studied him out of the corner of his eye.

Kingsley merely swirled the ice in his cocktail. “Land is grand, Mr. Prince, but wetter is better. Some days, it is good to be the King.”

At that, Kingsley strode off and sat next to someone Derek recognized as the top prosecutor in the state of New York. Glancing up, he saw Xenia swimming to the top of the column of water. Derek headed up the stairs again and found her just as she pulled herself from the water.

“You stayed,” she said, smiling as she stood naked and dripping in front of him. She didn’t reach for one of the dozens of towels stacked nearby. Nothing in her posture or manner seemed remotely seductive. Although everything in him longed to lick the water off her extraordinary curves, she appeared almost unaware of her naked body and the effect it had on him.

“I did stay. But I have to go now. Can I see you again?”

“If you come back, you can see me again. If you don’t come back, you can’t.”

“Then I’ll come back. I’ll definitely come back.”

“But go away now,” she said as she started to walk off. “I like your face enough I want to know how it feels to miss it.”

Grinning ear to ear, Derek nodded. He never knew getting dismissed could feel so good.

He returned to the club upstairs and found Ireland long gone. But he had told her he’d see her at her place. Even if she couldn’t keep a promise, he could.

* * *

He reachedIreland’s apartment by eleven o’clock. Knocking on the door just before eleven, he half-hoped Ireland wouldn’t answer. For a month now, he’d been putting off the big “this isn’t working” talk. They weren’t exclusive. Whenever he started to consider it, she’d shift into bitch overdrive and all thoughts of happily-ever-after would go screaming out the window.

Ireland answered the door wearing only a white shirt—one of his—and wet hair. She always took a long hot shower when angry. Not a good sign.

“Can’t believe you showed up.” She stepped back to let him in.

“Told you I would. I’m even early.”

Derek entered and sat on her couch. He hated how attractive she looked with her hair down and wet. Apparently, he’d acquired a wet hair fetish in only one evening.

Ireland exhaled heavily as she came to stand in front of him. “Derek, I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to be so late and not call. Forgive me?”

Derek shook his head and groaned. He hated these conversations. “Ireland, you’re smart and beautiful and….” he began and discovered he’d already run out of compliments. “That’s fantastic. But all you and I ever do is fuck or fight. If we’re not doing one, we’re doing the other.”

“So?”

“So that’s hardly a relationship. Look—” he began and she stopped him with a finger over his lips.

“So….” she said as she straddled his lap, a knee on either side of his thighs, “I’m done fighting.”

“Ireland, not tonight. We have to talk—”

Ireland raised her hand and unbuttoned the top button of her shirt.

“Don’t, Ireland.”

She unbuttoned her shirt all the way to the bottom and let it slide off her arms and slip to the floor. She dipped her head and kissed his neck, his earlobe.

Against his will, Derek’s body began to respond to her expert touch. She brought her breasts to his face and Derek suckled lightly on her nipples as she reached down and freed him from his pants. As he kissed her breasts hungrily, she rose up and pushed him inside her.

“Ireland, stop,” he said as he tore his mouth from her body.

“Stop what? Stop this?” She moved her hips forward, taking him even deeper into her. Rocking against him, Ireland unbuttoned his vest and shirt and pushed them back. Running her hands down his strong chest, she pressed her hands into the hard flat plane of his stomach. Derek breathed in hard and hated himself for letting her have such power over him. Ireland used sex as a weapon. She wielded it like a trained assassin.

Leaning in close, Ireland let her hair tickle his bare shoulders.

The touch of her wet hair on his skin proved too much for him. He ordered her up and bent her over the back of the couch. Gripping her shoulders, he brutally drove into her. Her hips bucked frantically against his. She loved it rough, but tonight his force was for his benefit, not hers. With bitter, angry thrusts he slammed into her as she panted his name. He pushed into her so deep she flinched. All the water in the ocean couldn’t put out the fire in his blood tonight.

Under him, Ireland groaned and gasped. Derek suspected half of Ireland’s vocal pleasure constituted mere theatrics designed to keep him ensnared to her. Her orgasm seemed louder than usual, and out of spite Derek came silently. He pulled out of her as soon as he’d finished.

“See?” Ireland grabbed her shirt off the floor. “We’re good together.”

Angry with himself for letting her win again, Derek shoved his shirt back into his pants. “We’re only good together when we’re in bed.”

“That was the couch,” she said with an arrogant toss of her hair.

“And it wasn’t good. It might have felt good but it wasn’t good.”

“Derek, what’s your problem? You’re hot and rich. So am I. You said yourself you weren’t planning on ever getting married again. God knows I don’t want a husband and a bunch of screaming brats around puking on my carpet and throwing cereal in my Porsche. We’re right for each other. We make sense.”

“We make nothing.” Derek hastily buttoned his vest. He hated who he turned into around Ireland. “We don’t even make love. I feel nothing with you. Tonight this girl kissed me on the cheek, and I felt more from that than I did five minutes ago when I was rammed up in you.”

“What are you saying?” For a moment Ireland seemed almost human.

What was he saying? In those few brief moments with Xenia, he’d laughed, mostly at himself. He’d felt like an idiot, like a teenager, like a man on a mission—things he never felt with Ireland, things he never even felt with his ex-wife. “I’m sorry, Ireland. I want more.”

The tiny moment of humanity had been an act. All the way to the door, Ireland pelted him with insults and profanities. Derek didn’t respond. He merely walked out, found his car, and headed to his own apartment. On his way there, his mind kept returning to Xenia. Derek Prince—son of the deputy mayor of New York, partner in his own law firm by age thirty—and now he couldn’t stop grinning at the thought of a twenty-one-year-old virgin who worked in a nightclub. Mark and Christian would die laughing if he told them. Then and there, he decided he would keep it to himself.

“Asshole,” Mark interjected. “You could have told us.”

“Seriously,” Derek said, “I shouldn’t even be telling you this much now. Nobody wants to get on Kingsley Edge’s shit list.”

“Bad list to be on, I hear,” Christian agreed.

“Look, do you want to hear the story or not?” Derek demanded.

“Does it get better? The only sex in it so far is with Ireland, and even then you left the good parts out.”

“There were no good parts with Ireland. But yes, it gets better. And weirder. And yeah, there’s definitely more sex.”

* * *

The day after meeting Xenia,his concentration at work had been shot. The hours crawled by. When the sun finally set, he wrapped up work earlier than usual. He showered, changed into black slacks and a black button-down. At eleven o’clock, he returned to Cirque du Nuit and headed straight for the stairwell.

Finding a seat at the lavish bar inside Fathoms, Derek ordered a drink and toyed with it as he kept an eye out for Xenia. Finally, he saw her slip out of one of the smaller pools and position herself on a rock next to a table. He could only stare at her glistening body as she tucked her silvery feet to the side and chatted with one of Fathoms’s many preposterously wealthy patrons.

He tried to catch her eye but had no luck. Almost despairing of his inability to talk to her, Derek debated whether he should leave or stay.

“Welcome back, Monsieur Prince.”

Derek turned around and saw Kingsley standing behind him. Tonight he wore a slightly more modern suit—black Armani—and his hair down instead of back in last night’s ponytail. A well-named man, he looked both aristocratic and undeniably edgy.

“Mr. Edge, Xenia asked me to come back. That’s allowed, isn’t it? I just want to talk to her.”

“Of course. My mermaids are employees here, not prisoners. They see whomever they desire. Xenia asked me to give you this note.” Kingsley handed him a piece of sea-blue paper covered in water splotches.

“A note?”

“You should feel quite flattered. I do not deign to play messenger often. Lucky for you, I’m in a very good mood.”

“Do I want to know why?” Derek asked as he carefully unfolded the waterlogged piece of blue stationery Kingsley had given him.

“See her?” Kingsley pointed at a beautiful mermaid with long black hair, voluptuous breasts, and a wide bright smile. “My Emelia…this is her last night. Joining the Peace Corps or some other such nonsense.” He said “nonsense,” but Derek heard pride in his voice.

“And that puts you in a good mood?”

“Let’s just say that, at her request, she will be getting quite a special send-off.”

Derek could only imagine what he meant by that. He tilted Xenia’s note into the light and read what he could of the wet words.

Hello my Handsome Derek Prince – If you stay until midnight I might turn into a pumpkin again. Wait, that’s the wrong story, isn’t it? I like how tall you are and that you smile when you look at me even when you think I can’t see you.

“She likes you,” Kingsley said.

“I like her. But we haven’t gotten to talk much.”

“She’s a delight. Intelligent, unusual, and, of course, quite beautiful. I worry about her though.”

“Why? She’s amazing.”

“She’s been here so long, I fear she may have forgotten what the sun looks like. Perhaps you could remind her.”

“I can do that. Happily. Pumpkin at midnight?”

“When she’s finished for the night. There’s a lounge upstairs and to the left. You may wait there if you promise that what you see tonight, you will not share with others. I’m very protective of my mermaids.”

* * *

After pledging his silence,Derek headed up the stairs Kingsley had indicated. Taking a hard left down a tiled corridor, Derek found the softly lit and luxurious lounge empty of men or mermaids. Impatient for midnight and his chance to talk to Xenia again, Derek wandered around the lounge and out into the hallway. Across from the lounge, Derek found another room, this one appointed like a tasteful massage studio complete with padded table and bottles of exotic oils. Alanna, the red-headed mermaid from last night, stepped past him wearing only a towel. Without even waiting for him to look away, she dropped her towel and lay prone on the table. An attractive young man of about twenty-seven or eight followed her into the room and washed his hands. He poured clear thick oil into his hands and ran it through the mermaid’s lustrous long hair. Then he doused the naked girl in a thick layer of golden oil and began to massage it into her skin.

The girl and her masseur chatted softly during her massage. At one point, she flipped over to allow him access to the front of her body. She didn’t seem the least fazed when he oiled her breasts and thighs. Daily hot oil massages as a perk of the job…no wonder Xenia didn’t want to leave this place. Derek decided that massages might be something he’d have to implement at his law office. Maybe Christian and Mark would pull their weight a little more with that incentive.

“Dude, the commentary is not appreciated,” Christian interrupted.

“But yes, massages at work,” Mark agreed. “Now continue.”

At first Derek thought it was an ordinary massage. With all the time the women spent in the water, Derek imagined they’d require an intensive skin-care regimen. But soon the rather perfunctory massage turned intimate as the masseur pushed apart Alanna’s legs and rubbed high on her inner thighs. Sighing blissfully, she opened her legs even wider. The young man reached between her thighs and spread apart the folds of her vagina.

“You’re shitting us,” Mark breathed, his eyes going wide enough Derek had to laugh. “Hymen check?”

“Exactly,” Derek said, flushing a little at the intensity of the memory. “But not just that.”

The man moved his fingers higher and began tracing tight circles around the mermaid’s clitoris. She closed her eyes, raised her hips slightly and after a few minutes of the masseur’s ministrations, she came with a flinch and a gasp. At no point during the procedure had he penetrated her in any way. Yet the look on her face indicated a very happy mermaid who’d just had a spectacularly strong orgasm.

“We can include that in our office massages.” Mark took a fresh drink from their scantily-clad waitress. Derek knew Mark and Christian must be engrossed in his story as neither of them even bothered to flirt with her. “That won’t be an HR nightmare at all.”

“Screw our law firm.” Christian collapsed back into his seat as if spent. “I’m going to find that guy and take his job. Massages with happy endings. Awesome.”

Alanna, rolled off the table, picked up her towel, and strolled out of the studio. On her way out, she patted Derek on the cheek and kept walking. Just another day at the office.

“I guess swimming naked around the upper echelons of New York high society makes for some seriously immodest virgins,” Christian surmised.

Derek shook his head, still unable to believe that he’d seen what he’d seen last year at Fathoms. “You haven’t heard anything yet,” he said, and took a deep breath before diving back into his story.

Intending to head back to the lounge, or maybe the men’s room first and then the lounge, Derek turned around and came face to face with the striking blonde bartender from last night.

She arched her eyebrow at him. “Enjoy the show?”

Blushing guiltily, Derek knew he had no excuse for watching other than no one told him he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. Urs, right? That’s your name?” The girl didn’t bat an eyelash. “I was waiting on Xenia. Kingsley told me I could come up here.”

The girl’s anger flickered only slightly at the mention of Kingsley’s name. “Xenia’s happy here. This is her home. This place may seem like a freak show to you, but it’s heaven here. Kingsley takes amazing care of his employees. The mermaids make incredible money, live in gorgeous free apartments, and as you saw, we get great benefits.”

“Kingsley said Xenia’s been here for three years. Don’t you think she might want to have a relationship with someone eventually?”

“With someone who will see her as some kind of prize, use her, and then drop her when the shine wears off? When he realizes she’s just a tattooed girl who had a very cool job once upon a time but now is as human as he is? That kind of relationship?”

“No. A real relationship. Marriage maybe, or kids. Or if not that, then at least a healthy sexual relationship with someone she’s in love with. Is she going to be doing this when she’s sixty?”

“You’ll still want her when she’s sixty?”

“I just want to get to know her. She’s weird and beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about her. And no, I wasn’t just thinking about having sex with her. Believe it or not, I’d really like to take her to lunch and talk. Is that so horrible?”

“It’s not horrible, no,” she said, the venom gone from her tone and profound regret in its place. “But this is better. Trust me.”

Derek didn’t know what to say. He glanced down at the floor and saw a flash of a silver tattoo on Urs’s ankle. “You used to be a mermaid?” he asked, understanding her bitterness now.

“I did. But I was stupid and left.”

“What happened?”

“Some rich pretty-boy jackass—sound familiar?—made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“And?”

Urs started to walk down the hall. “I didn’t refuse it.”

* * *

Derek returned to the lounge,Urs’s angry words echoing in his ears. Maybe she had a point. If Xenia was happy here at Fathoms, why leave it behind for the uncertainty that came standard with the real world and real relationships?

“Hello, my Handsome Derek,” he heard a voice over his shoulder.

He turned his head and found Xenia, naked and dripping, standing in the doorway to the lounge. Water droplets gleamed on her breasts and belly.

“I’m sorry. I think I’ve forgotten English,” Derek said, blinking at her.

“It’s cute how you can’t stop staring at my breasts.”

“Cute is better than sociopathic. I really do know what your face looks like.”

“Really?” She put her hands on her hips. “Close your eyes.”

Derek took a nervous breath and obeyed. He heard soft wet footsteps on the tile floor coming closer to him.

“Now,” Xenia said, “Tell me what color my eyes are.”

Derek smiled. “Dark blue like the ocean at night. And you have dark eyelashes that make them look ever bluer.”

“Very good. You can open—” she began, but Derek wasn’t finished.

“You’ve got a freckle under your left eye and another freckle on your bottom lip. It looks like a tiny smudge of lipstick and I’m dying to kiss it. You also have a birthmark on your derriere that I also wouldn’t mind kissing.”

Christian burst into slightly drunken laughter. “Did you really say ‘derriere’?” he asked.

“I was trying to make her laugh.”

“Did she laugh?” Mark asked.

“Better,” Derek said.

With his eyes closed, he had tried to think of a few more lines to throw at her—how her hair looked like a silk veil as it trailed her in the water, how her nose crinkled when she giggled…but before he could get the words out, her lips, moist and cool, pressed against his lips, warm and ready. He expected a quick kiss, sweet and brief. But she surprised him again by turning her head and touching his bottom lip with her tongue.

Nearly groaning from the need to wrap his arms around her naked body and drag her to him, Derek forced himself to focus only on her mouth.

Soft and full, her lips moved on his with as much curiosity as hunger. She tasted clean and pure like water. He wanted to drink her.

Finally, she pulled back and Derek opened his eyes. She smiled down at him and he decided then and there that when he died, he would be buried at sea.

“You’re an idiot, Derek,” Christian said.

“I’m not arguing with that,” Derek said. “But I was an idiot in love.”

“What happened after the awesome kiss?” Mark asked.

“Nothing torrid,” Derek said and saw Mark and Christian’s faces fall like two kids who didn’t get what they wanted for Christmas. “Not yet anyway.” Their faces lit up again. “Unfortunately she put on clothes.”

“What was she wearing?” Mark asked. “That hot white skirt and cami mermaidy thing again?”

“Pajamas. White shorts, a white tank top, white socks. She looked adorable.”

“I want a mermaid,” Mark sighed.

“I want torrid,” Christian said and waved at Derek to go on.

“Torrid did happen that night. But not between Xenia and me.” Their eyebrows raised. “It’s about to get even weirder. And hotter.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at Xenia.“Do you have any eights?”

Xenia bit her bottom lip, smiled, and shook her head. “Go fish.”

“Dammit. I think you’ve rigged this game.” Derek reached into the ocean to take a card.

“I’m even better at Old Maid.” Xenia winked at him.

Derek laughed, relieved she had a sense of humor about her virginity.

“But Go Fish is my favorite,” she continued. “Mermaids and fish are very good friends. I have connections.”

Smiling, Derek sorted the cards in his hand. This might go down in history as his oddest first date ever. In some respects, the date progressed very well—already he’d achieved access to Xenia’s bed. But in other respects, he imagined his friends scoffing at his current activity. He and Xenia sat cross-legged on her covers, a deck of cards between them as they played Go Fish and talked.

“I have connections too.” Derek stretched out on his side. “My father’s the deputy mayor.”

“The governor of Vermont offered me fifty-thousand dollars for my virginity. So there.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Are you serious?”

“No.” Xenia laid down a book of cards. “It was Connecticut.”

Groaning, Derek rolled onto his back. “If 50K and a governorship doesn’t do it for you, then I have no chance, right?” he asked, still smiling.

“The governor of Connecticut never played Go Fish with me. And he’s ugly. You aren’t. Alanna said you look like Paul Walker. I have no idea who that is, but apparently it’s a compliment.”

“Well, you look like…” Derek tried to find someone beautiful enough to compare Xenia to but came up short. “You look like you.”

Blushing, she looked down and rearranged her cards in girlish nervousness. Part of him wanted to kiss her again and kiss her for a good three hours. But although he sat on her bed, he didn’t quite feel comfortable making a move on her. The virginity thing he considered only a small stumbling block. Xenia’s three roommates constituted a slightly larger problem. Derek had wondered how Kingsley could be so sure his mermaids behaved themselves. And Urs said they lived in gorgeous apartments the club paid for—and, yes, Xenia’s apartment, located in the building next to the club, qualified as gorgeous. Expansive and elegant, with hardwood floors, lofted ceilings, and—

“Derek, seriously, we don’t care how awesome the apartment was,” Christian interrupted.

“Sorry, sorry.” Derek held up his hands in surrender. “Mom’s a real-estate agent. Crown molding is in my genes. Anyway, the apartment was amazing but annoying because Xenia had three roommates. And all four beds were scattered around the big main room.”

“That’s insidious. I guess that’s one way of keeping your mermaids virginal—put them in dorms with chaperones.” Mark shook his head. “This Kingsley Edge guy is an evil genius.”

“Oh, God, Kingsley. We’ll get back to him in a minute,” Derek said.

Xenia beat Derek at their first and second game of Go Fish. As they played they talked about everything and nothing. Derek learned Xenia grew up right on the ocean.

“Probably why I’m still a virgin,” she told him as she shuffled her card deck. “My parents run a bed-and-breakfast on Hilton Head Island. Everyone I met was a temporary resident. They’d stay a week maybe, or a month at the most and then be gone again. You learned to guard your heart, not get too attached. The only thing that ever seemed permanent to me was the ocean.”

She’d opened her heart a little to him so he told her about his brief marriage that had ended in disaster and had temporarily shattered his faith in women. He even told her about his two best friends, Mark and Christian, who’d helped him through that nightmare three years ago.

“Aww…I’m touched, man,” Mark said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

“Shut up,” Christian ordered. “I have a feeling things are about to get torrid again.”

“You are correct, sir,” Derek said.

* * *

Around three in the morning,he and Xenia gave up on the cards and simply lay on her bed talking while Derek played with her hair. After fifteen minutes, he decided he didn’t care if one of her roommates—a Nubian goddess named Alara—sat reading in her bed across the room. He leaned over Xenia, kissing her long and slow. With a sigh of pleasure, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. He felt like a teenager again making out with a beautiful girl without any expectations of getting laid. He wanted to touch her, to slip his hands under her shirt and caress her breasts. He wanted to slide his fingers into her little shorts and find out if she was as wet as he was hard. But he merely held her and kissed her and decided if it never progressed farther than this kiss, he would be okay with that.

At about 3:30, a knock on the door interrupted them. A girl so beautiful she had to be another mermaid entered without waiting for a response and looked at Alara and Xenia.

“Coming, Ladies?” the girl asked. She didn’t seem the least troubled by Derek’s presence in the room.

“I don’t know.” Xenia rolled up and rearranged her hair. “I hate goodbyes.”

“I know,” the intruder agreed. “But Emelia wants us there.”

Nodding, Xenia stood up.

“Where—” Derek began but Xenia covered his mouth with a quick kiss.

“Don’t tell,” she whispered and took his hand.

Derek, Xenia, and her roommate followed the girl down a hallway to another room. In the room, Derek saw nothing but a bed covered in white satin sheets ringed with candles. Xenia, Derek, and her roommate stayed in the shadows at the edge of the room and sat on floor pillows. Derek put his arm around Xenia and let her back rest against his chest.

“Are you okay?” he whispered to her when he noticed a tear rolling down her face.

“It’s just really sad when one of us leaves. Emelia’s like a sister. I wanted to pretend she wasn’t really going. Now I can’t anymore.”

“So is this some sort of going away party?” Derek asked, seeing the dozen or more mermaids that lined the room.

Xenia shook her head and pressed closer to him. “It’s not a party.”

After a minute or two, Emelia entered the room wearing a beautiful white silk nightgown. It displayed her ample cleavage but trailed all the way to the floor. Her black hair curled magnificently down her back. She wore no jewelry other than her mermaid pendant around her neck. Gazing at her glowing face, he thought she looked like a virgin bride on her wedding night.

If she was the bride, he had to wonder who her groom could possibly be. But just as he had the thought, Kingsley Edge entered the room and shut the door behind him. He strode to where Emelia stood waiting by the bed, twisting her fingers nervously. Bending his mouth to her ear, he whispered something to the scared girl as he raised his hand and lightly stroked the side of her face.

“Xenia,” Derek whispered. “They’re not—”

But Xenia didn’t answer. She only turned her face up to him, kissed him, and looked back at Kingsley and Emelia.

Whatever Kingsley whispered to Emelia, it seemed to help. She nodded her head and Kingsley took her face in both hands. Gently, he kissed her. Then the kiss grew deeper, more passionate. Kingsley ran his hands up and down Emelia’s back and lingered on her hips. Derek’s chest tightened when he realized what was happening right in front of him.

Kingsley’s mouth moved from Emelia’s lips to the top of her breasts. Slowly he slipped her nightgown off her shoulders and let it cascade like white water to the floor. Sitting on the side of the bed, he pulled Emelia to him and took a nipple in his mouth while his hands continued to caress her stomach and thighs. He pulled back and said something softly to Emelia, gave her some kind of order. Obediently, she lay on the bed and opened her legs.

Quickly and using white silk scarves, Kingsley bound Emelia’s hands and wrists to the bedposts, tying her down spread-eagle. Once he had her securely tied, Kingsley straddled her hips and kissed her breasts again. His mouth slid from her nipples to her stomach and then came down between her thighs.

Derek was torn between the red-blooded male in him that wanted to watch and his conscience, which whispered he shouldn’t be witness to such a private moment. He glanced down at Xenia and saw her following the scene intently. Her eyes held no hunger, only sadness coupled with interest. Clearly, she grieved for the girl who would leave their little coven but still, she seemed fascinated to witness an act she had never participated in.

Emelia’s breasts rose and fell as she panted with pleasure. She gripped the scarves in her fingers, her hips raised off the bed, and she came with a loud, throaty gasp.

As Emelia lay on her back and breathed, Kingsley rose up and pushed a single finger into her. A second finger followed and Derek saw Emelia twitch with either pleasure or pain. Kingsley’s fingers moved in and out of her slowly and then side to side. Kingsley spread his fingers apart inside the girl and the sound that escaped Emelia’s lips clearly indicated pain. But Kingsley worked patiently on her, and after a few minutes he pushed a third finger into her and made spirals inside her with his hand.

Slowly, meticulously he opened her more and more, his fingers digging deeper and deeper into her. He massaged her clitoris with his other hand. Once again her wrists pulled against her bonds, once again her back arched as another orgasm gripped her.

Kingsley pulled his fingers out of Emelia. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Derek wanted to look away as Kingsley opened his pants, rolled on a condom, and positioned himself between Emelia’s wide-open thighs. But instead of feeling like he was watching some sort of creepy sex show, Derek felt like he was witness to something beautiful and brave. Very brave. Extremely well-endowed, Kingsley, although rich, handsome, and French, might not have been Emelia’s best choice for her first lover.

Derek watched as Emelia took a steadying breath and focused her eyes on the ceiling. Kingsley bent his head to her ear. Once more he whispered something to her. Once more she whispered back. Emelia’s eyes met Kingsley’s. She nodded her head and took a quick hard breath. At the end of her exhale, Kingsley obliterated the girl’s virginity with one fierce thrust.

Xenia flinched in Derek’s arms, and he held her even tighter. For a long time, Kingsley didn’t move. He simply let Emelia breathe and cry. Arching in pain, she pulled on her silken bonds while Kingsley continued to whisper reassurances to her. After a few minutes, her agonized breathing settled. Carefully Kingsley began to move inside her. The whimpering continued but when Kingsley reached between their bodies and found her clitoris, the sound ceased to be agonizing and instead turned rapturous.

Xenia shifted in Derek’s arms and he swallowed a groan as her small shapely bottom pressed against his erection. He couldn’t help but imagine Xenia underneath him like that, his body inside hers. What an honor it would be to be her first lover, to be the one she gave up Fathoms for. But he remembered Urs, the bitterness and regret in her voice. She’d left Fathoms for someone like him, and now she couldn’t come back except as an outsider. Would Xenia regret leaving the way Urs did?

After what seemed like an eternity of slow tortured thrusts, Kingsley began to move faster inside Emelia. The wave of pain had seemingly passed, and now sounds of bliss alone escaped her lips.

Derek tensed as Kingsley increased his pace and moved harder against Emelia. Kingsley gathered her to him as she buried her head against his chest. A shudder wracked Emelia’s body as she climaxed a third time. Kingsley thrust once more and came with a sharp intake of breath.

Slowly, Kingsley pulled out of her and Derek saw the blood on him. He closed his pants, pulled on his shirt, and untied Emelia. Rolling up, Emelia slipped back into her gown, wincing a little with every small movement. Finally, she reached up and unclasped the mermaid pendant from around her neck. She reached for Kingsley’s hand and placed it in the center of his palm. He wrapped his fingers around it like a cherished gift and kissed the back of her hand.

Emelia turned away from him and left the room, a hint of tears at the corner of her eyes.

“Oh…my…God….” Christian said, and Derek nearly laughed at the expressions on Mark and Christian’s faces. They looked like the proverbial deer in headlights.

“I know,” Derek agreed. “That’s how I felt.”

“I can’t believe you got to watch Kingsley Edge tie some girl down and take her virginity right in front of you,” Mark breathed. “You lucky fucking son of a bitch.”

“I didn’t feel lucky right then. Privileged, sort of. But also freaked out. Not kidding, the bloodstain on the bed was as big as your hand. And I was there. Kingsley was incredibly careful and that girl was still in agony half the time. I’d say it was as sobering as it was sexy.”

“My first time was with a virgin,” Mark said. “She was fifteen, I was sixteen. After that first time she wouldn’t let me near her for three months, that’s how much it hurt.”

“Or she just didn’t like you anymore, and she used that as an excuse,” Christian posited.

“Highly probable,” Mark agreed. “But continue, you pervert. I’ve got to hear what happened next.”

“What happened next,” Derek began, “was me spending a couple of minutes on the floor trying to will my erection away. No amount of imagining dead relatives or my parents having sex seemed to work. So Xenia sat down in front of me and started telling me about Emelia. About how she came from this poor family of about eight kids, and how she couldn’t even afford community college until Kingsley found her working at some Catholic charity when she was nineteen.”

“Catholic charity?”

“Supposedly Kingsley’s brother-in-law is a priest. Don’t ask—I didn’t. Anyway, talking about Emelia as a person who wanted to do nothing except help people helped me get to the point I could stand up again without coming all over myself.”

“Then what did you two do?” Christian asked, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

“I did something absolutely insane at that moment. I asked Xenia to spend the next day with me. And she said ‘yes.’”

Derek left shortly after that. Both he and Xenia had to get some sleep. But he promised her he’d pick her up in front of Cirque du Nuit later that day. Once he returned to his apartment, he took a fifteen-minute shower. Only five minutes of the shower involved actual showering. The other ten minutes involved him relieving the pressure of the four most sexually frustrating hours of his life.

* * *

He sleptlike the dead until noon, got up, showered, relieved the lingering pressure again, and dressed for a day out. At one o’clock, he pulled up in front of Cirque du Nuit right as Xenia emerged from the entryway wearing a sleeveless white cotton dress and very dark sunglasses.

“Trying not to be recognized?” he asked as he opened the door of his Audi for her.

“I haven’t been out in the sun for a while,” she admitted. “I’d forgotten how bright the day is. If you can talk someone into turning down the sun a little, I’ll take them off.”

“You look beautiful. I just miss your eyes. We can hang out in the shade if you want.”

She shook her head. “Let’s go to the park and walk. I haven’t done that in forever.”

They hit Central Park a little after one and strolled the winding walkways, dodging dogs and joggers the entire time.

“So last night,” Derek began.

“You think we’re crazy, right?”

“A little. But not bad crazy. Is that…typical?”

Xenia laughed and took a bite of the pretzel he’d bought for her. “Kingsley’s done the honors for us more than once. A lot of us would have nothing without him. And we all live together, swim around naked together…. Emelia wanted to share that really important moment in her life with us.”

“You weren’t planning on something like that, were you?” Derek asked.

“I do love Kingsley. But like a brother only. Promise.” She smiled at the relief that shone on his face. “Obviously there are worse guys to have your first time with than Kingsley. The guy Urs left us for was a total ass. He paid her for her virginity, so much she couldn’t say ‘no,’ and then after some extremely bad, painful sex, decides that being with a virgin’s overrated. He dumped her after a week. At least she got the money first.”

Having a virginal girlfriend had its drawbacks. But the thought of instructing Xenia in the bedroom, learning along with her how her body worked, turned him on so much he was in danger of needing yet another therapeutic shower.

“What an asshole. I know guys who would kill for a girl as gorgeous as her without all the ex-boyfriend baggage,” Derek said, unable to even dream of doing that to Xenia.

“Me, for one,” Mark chimed in. “Do you have this Urs person’s phone number? She’s feisty and wasn’t afraid to chew you out. I like her already.”

“No, sorry. But trust me, the girl’s got some serious anger issues. You’ll see.”

They talked as they walked, and once Xenia finished her pretzel, she twined her fingers into Derek’s and, hand-in-hand, they strolled the park.

“Are your feet getting tired?” he asked her as her pace started to slacken.

“A little. I do all my working out in the water. I weigh a lot less in liquid.”

“Here. Let’s get some wheels.”

The wheels in question also included a horse. Derek had always thought the carriage ride through Central Park seemed too cliché to be even remotely enjoyable. But Xenia’s face lit up around the horse and suddenly the cliché did actually seem almost romantic.

“This is fantastic,” Xenia said. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed out all day in the sun.”

“The club takes over your life, does it?”

She nodded. “You meet the most interesting people. But it sort of screws up your schedule. I’m up all night and sleep all day.”

“Are you a vampire or a mermaid?”

“Both.” She playfully bit his neck.

The play bite turned into a kiss, and the kiss turned into another long make-out session in the carriage.

“The making out has to stop, Derek. It just does. At least get to second base with the damn girl,” Mark ordered.

“Fine, fine. The day went great. Best date of my life. Talked, laughed…. She was smart and funny and had a ton of stories to tell me about famous weirdos she met.”

“Don’t care. Skip to the good parts.”

“Every second with Xenia was a good part,” Derek said, feeling the truth of the statement in his heart. Every moment he spent with her he felt awake, alive. Not just like Derek Prince, but Derek Princely.

“Yo, Prince Derek. Get back to the story.”

“Fine, fine.”

Hours later, Derek dropped Xenia off at the club. The kiss in the carriage couldn’t compete with the passionate kiss he received as they said goodbye. As soon as they parted, he began counting the hours until he could see her again. Her shift ended at two on Saturdays, so he had a few hours to kill. He killed them by working and sleeping. Her vampire hours seemed a bigger annoyance than her virginity had been so far. But still, he wondered how long he could go without consummating his intense passion for her.

Two a.m. found Derek in the lounge waiting once more for Xenia. Once more she appeared in the doorway naked and dripping wet. This time he could meet her eyes without staring at her breasts first.

“Hey you,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve got to get my rubdown on, but I’ll be done in just a few minutes, okay?”

“Not okay. I know the massage skincare thing is part of the routine, but I will go insane if I have to sit in here while some guy paws at you in the next room.”

Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “Not all of us take advantage of that particular perk of the job. For the record, I never have. It’s just skin and hair care, very much needed in this line of work.”

“That and getting a pretty personal inspection.”

She shrugged. “Part of the job. You saw where we live, how well we’re treated. All Kingsley asks is that we stay virgins while we work here. Small price to pay from where I stand.”

“There’s gotta be a compromise. I’m having a hard enough time thinking about all those men downstairs drooling all over you.”

“I’m constantly wet,” she teased. “A little drool is not a big deal. But we can compromise on this if you want.”

He eyed her warily. Her tone was a bit too mischievous to be entirely trustworthy. “What’s the compromise?”

“You can give me my rubdown. How’s that?”

They crossed the hallway to the massage studio. With great relief, Derek discovered that the door locked. Just being near Xenia’s body put him in a state of extreme arousal. He preferred as few witnesses as possible to his uncontrollable erection.

He took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down as Xenia positioned herself on her stomach. Derek couldn’t look at her like that without imagining himself on top of her, his chest to her back, his hands in her hair, thrusting into her from behind.

Taking a low slow breath, Derek reminded himself that he was doing this for Xenia and not as some sort of sexual act. He convinced his mind. His body remained dubious.

“What first?” he asked.

“Hair. That’s the blue bottle. I can do that myself if you want.”

“No. I’m going to do this right,” Derek said and took the blue glass bottle off the table and poured vanilla-scented oil into his palms. He started at the nape of Xenia’s neck and massaged it all the way through her long wavy hair. She sighed contentedly while Derek played with her hair.

“I think I got every strand, probably twice,” he said. “What now?”

“Gold stuff. That’s for the body. Watch my feet though. I’m ticklish and if you rub too lightly, I’ll kick you.”

“Good to know.” Derek washed the hair serum off his hands and poured a mound of the pale golden oil into his palms. He started at Xenia’s shoulders and rubbed his way down her back.

“God, this stuff smells amazing,” Derek said as the scent wafted up to his nose. “It smells like the ocean and orchids.”

“This place in uptown makes it just for us. No one but Kingsley’s mermaids gets to use it. The silver metallic ink is ours alone too. This brilliant tattoo artist in the Village invented the stuff. No other tattoo artist in the world has this kind of ink.”

“Did they hurt?” Derek asked, tracing the tattoos of fish scales on her hips.

“A little. But it’s a badge of honor to have them. You can’t wear the mermaid pendant anymore once you lose your virginity, but you have the tattoos for life.”

Derek moved from her back to her bottom, and Xenia giggled a little as he lingered unnecessarily over his work.

“I have legs too, you know,” she reminded him.

“Legs. Right.” Derek worked his way down the back of her legs, massaging oil into her thighs, her calves, and the bottom of her feet. “I think I’m done with your exquisite backside. Unfortunately.”

“No worries. One side left.”

She flipped over onto her back and gazed at him through half-closed eyes. Derek cursed himself for not taking yet another therapeutic shower right before coming to Fathoms.

He started at her arms because they seemed safe to touch. But he could only linger there for so long. He poured a line of oil down the center of Xenia’s body from her collarbone to her bellybutton. Laying his hands on her chest, he rubbed her neck and shoulders before sliding down to her breasts. He nearly moaned aloud as he finally touched her beautiful perfect breasts. No amount of reminding himself his job was to massage and not to grope could keep him from cupping them in his hands and caressing her nipples until they grew stiff and rosy.

“I usually fall asleep during this,” she said, a desperate catch in her voice.

“Not feeling sleepy?” he asked as he gently teased her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

She shook her head. “I’m feeling everything but sleepy.”

“Good,” he breathed as he moved reluctantly from her breasts to her stomach. From her stomach, he moved to her hips and massaged the tops of her legs down to her feet and back again. On his way back up her body, she spread her knees wide enough for him to slip his hands between them. As he neared the apex of her thighs, he could feel heat radiating from her.

“You can touch me, Derek,” she whispered. “I want you to.”

His hands almost shaking from raw need, Derek caressed the smooth outer folds until Xenia pulled her legs even wider apart. He slid his finger down the wet slit and pressed the lips of her vagina wide open.

“Xenia…you’re so…God.” He couldn’t find the words. “Are you sure this is allowed?”

“Just be careful,” she said, and Derek knew what she meant. Right in front of his eyes, he could see the thin membrane of tissue that stretched across the lower half of the entrance to her body.

Wary of her hymen, Derek slowly slid one finger inside Xenia. Heat and wetness enveloped his finger as he pushed in as far as he could go. Xenia’s breath caught in her throat; her breasts rose and fell.

“That’s incredible,” she said, exhaling heavily.

“God, it is,” he agreed, moving inside her tight wet passage, pressing into her g-spot, finding all the places that sent her panting. Pushing lightly into the front wall, Derek saw Xenia twitch and then grin. With his other hand, Derek massaged her clitoris, which swelled at his touch. Derek rubbed harder and quicker, letting his pace match the rhythm of Xenia’s ragged breathing. He ached to open his pants, climb on the table, and thrust into her for the rest of his life. But he held back and only touched her with his hands.

Her back arched and every muscle in her body seemed to tense at once. With a quiet, hard gasp, Xenia climaxed. Derek nearly came from the sensation of her inner muscles as they spasmed around his finger. Carefully he pulled out of her as Xenia rolled up. She wrapped her arms around him and brought her mouth to his.

“Xenia, we should stop,” Derek said, wanting to do anything but. “I’m seriously about to lose whatever self-control I had two minutes ago.”

“Let me help,” she said into his lips. “Let me touch you too.”

She reached down and unzipped his jeans. Derek rested his forehead on her shoulder as she took his desperately hard length in her hands. Lightly she touched him, her fingers skimming his skin so gently he almost screamed. When she wrapped both small hands around him, Derek couldn’t hold back any longer. He came with a fierce gasp, shuddering harder than he ever had in his life.

“I’ll get a towel,” he said, embarrassed that he’d come so hard and so quickly right on her hands.

Xenia looked at her hand before raising her palm to her lips. She touched his semen lightly with the tip of her tongue.

“Tastes like the ocean,” she concluded.

The sight of her tasting him out of nothing but innocent curiosity brought his blood quickly back to a boil. His mouth crashed onto hers as he pushed her onto her back. Instead of touching her nipples, he sucked them hard while his finger pushed inside her again. He pulled her hips to the end of the table and shoved her legs over his shoulders. Dipping his head, he took her clitoris between his lips and stroked it with his tongue. He devoured her with his mouth until she came once more, this time even harder than the first.

As she caught her breath, Derek kissed his way back up her body to her mouth. “You taste better than the ocean,” he said as he let her taste herself on his lips.

She opened her mouth to say something, but a knock on the door interrupted their erotic reverie.

“Shit,” Derek said, handing Xenia a towel.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

Xenia wrapped the towel around herself and opened the door. Urs waited outside the door.

“Sorry, Urs. Did you need the room?” Xenia asked, nothing but sweet solicitude in her voice.

“No. But you two need to get a room. And you need to give up the pendant, Xenia.” Urs held out her hand.

Xenia shook her head. “We didn’t have sex. We were just—”

“Just what? I’m not deaf.”

Derek stepped forward and between the two women. “Urs, it’s my fault. We got carried away. But no, we didn’t have sex.”

“Really? Prove it,” Urs said and pointed at the table.

“No. I don’t want to—” Xenia began.

“Then give up the pendant.”

“I will not,” Xenia said and took a step back.

“Give it up,” Urs demanded, reaching for Xenia’s throat. With more force than he ever dreamed he’d use on a woman, Derek grabbed Urs’s arm before her fingers could touch Xenia.

“Urs,” Derek said quietly, coldly, “back off.”

“I don’t answer to you, Urs,” Xenia said, standing up to her full and utterly unimpressive height.

“Non, but you do answer to moi,” said a voice from the end of the hallway. Derek released Urs’s arm as Kingsley strolled toward them. “Now what is this about?”

“Xenia and Derek were having sex in the massage room. She won’t give up her pendant.”

Kingsley looked at Derek and Xenia then back at Urs. “Is this true, Xenia?” he asked them.

She shook her head. “We didn’t have sex.”

“She says that,” Urs said, “but she won’t prove it.”

“I can prove it,” Xenia said. Derek saw frustrated tears in her eyes. “I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t fine. Urs doesn’t get to put you in stirrups just because she heard us fooling around.”

“Then I will,” Kingsley said calmly. “Xenia, after you.”

Xenia bit her bottom lip and started to step back into the room. Before Kingsley could follow, Derek thrust his arm out and barred Kingsley’s way. He heard both Xenia and Urs gasp aloud.

“Derek, don’t,” Xenia warned. But Derek paid no heed. Rarely if ever had he felt he could kill someone. But now an animal rage welled up in him, a fierce protectiveness that surged through his blood and shocked even him with its ferocity.

“Mr. Edge,” Derek said, his voice so bitterly angry even he barely recognized it. “I know you’ve called all sorts of politicians in your book. I know people who call you the most dangerous man in the city. But if you touch her in any way she doesn’t want…” Derek took a long slow breath. “I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but I will make you regret it.”

“Jesus, Derek, you really said that to Kingsley Edge?” Christian asked.

“That was it almost word for word,” Derek confessed, recalling that moment in crystal clear detail. He remembered it so well because at the time he thought it might be the last few minutes of his life.

“Dude, Kingsley’s ex-French Foreign Legion. You’re lucky to be alive. What did he do?”

“He smiled.”

The smile scared him more than wrath would have. Kingsley smiled like a man unafraid of anything or anyone—especially him.

“I like you, Monsieur Prince. But rules are rules. Xenia?”

Her bottom lip quivering, Xenia stepped back into the room. Kingsley ducked under Derek’s arm, and closed the door behind him.

The minute Derek waited in the hall safely qualified as the longest minute of his life.

“You psychotic bitch,” Derek said, his eyes narrowing at Urs.

“Your own fault. You know the rules here. She gets to stay as long as she’s a virgin. Once she isn’t, she’s gone. You having sex with her doesn’t just affect you, it affects her whole life. Do you get that?”

Before he could answer, Xenia emerged from the room and slipped into Derek’s arms. Kingsley followed and gave Derek another smile before strolling off.

“Urs,” Kingsley called back, “back to work.”

Urs brushed past them and headed back downstairs.

“Are you okay?” Derek whispered into her hair.

“He didn’t touch me. He didn’t do anything but ask me to look him in the eyes and tell him the truth.”

“So he didn’t…?”

“No. He didn’t.”

Derek heaved a sigh of relief and prayed Xenia wasn’t lying just to keep him from killing her boss. “If he made you spread your legs for him, would you have?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

Xenia looked at the ceiling. “He’s seen it before.”

“So that’s a ‘yes’?”

“It’s the price you pay for working here.”

“It’s worth it?” he asked.

Slowly, Xenia nodded. “It’s my home.”

A cold, miserable realization settled into Derek’s mind and sunk into his stomach. “You really love this place. And I can’t ask you to leave it. But if I stick around, something’s going to happen and they’ll make you.”

“Derek, I don’t want to leave. But I don’t want to lose you either. I’ve never felt anything like what I feel with you.”

“And I’ve never, God, I was married, Xenia, and I never felt anything like this. I threatened to kill Kingsley Edge. I must have a death wish.”

“It was impressive. I think he likes you even more now. I do too.”

Derek rubbed his face. “I can’t do this. I can’t put you in the position to choose between this place you love and some guy you barely know.”

“Don’t be like this. We can figure something out. We can—”

“What? What can we do?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.

Derek squeezed his eyes shut tight. He pulled out his wallet and dug out his business card. “Here. It’s got all my numbers on it. When you decide to leave here, call me. I’ll come running. But I won’t put you in this position again. I’m sorry,” he said.

Xenia looked down at the card in his hand but didn’t take it.

“Do you know how men have tried to give me their business cards?” she asked, her eyes going cold, her voice hollow. “More than I can begin to count. Do you know what I did when they offered me their business cards?”

Derek swallowed hard. “No.”

“I did this.” Xenia dropped her towel, walked to the edge of the column, and dove into the water. Dove in and dove deep and showed no sign of coming back up for a long time.

* * *

“And that,”Derek said, finishing his drink off, “is the end of my story.”

“Whoa, there. No way,” Mark said. “She never gave you her mermaid?”

“No, she didn’t.” Derek stood up and tossed a hundred on the table. “And now it’s almost midnight and I’m about to turn into a pumpkin.”

“Get your ass back here and finish the story, Derek.”

“I already told you, that’s the end. See you at work on Monday.”

Smiling to himself, Derek left Mark and Christian cursing him. On the way to his apartment, he remembered how he felt that moment Xenia slipped away from him, when she dove into the pool and turned into nothing but foam on the surface of the water. He couldn’t believe she wouldn’t even take his card…but then he realized what giving her his business card meant—it meant he wouldn’t see her anymore unless she’d have sex with him. And the ache in his heart at the thought of never seeing her again trumped the ache in his body at the chance they’d never make love.

So he’d done the only thing a man could do when in love with a mermaid who was swimming away from him. He dove in after her. Even underwater, he saw her eyes go comically wide. She raced to the surface, where Derek was treading water, clinging to the side of the pool.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m an idiot. I can’t ask you to leave your life here, but I don’t want to lose you. So let’s stay together and see if we can work.”

“Derek, I can’t be with you the way you want me to be and stay here.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, meaning every word. “When you’re ready, we’ll go for it. Until then, I’ll just take a lot of cold showers. Starting right now. This water is fucking freezing.”

“Keeps the nipples hard,” she said, grinning. “You really mean it?”

“Take all the time you need. I just want to be part of your world. I need you in my life any way that works for you.”

“And I need you in my life.”

“And I need you out of my pool,” said a voice from above them. Derek looked up and saw Kingsley glaring down at him from the edge of the water. “S’il vous plait.”

After they’d dried off, Xenia, Derek, and Kingsley had a long talk. Xenia could continue to work at Fathoms and see Derek as long as they didn’t have intercourse. Technical virginity was good enough for Kingsley. “I am French after all,” he reminded them.

And Kingsley agreed to allow one of the other mermaids to handle Xenia’s rubdowns and virginity checks, which Derek already looked forward to watching.

“You’re a fool, Monsieur,” Kingsley warned Derek. “So many beautiful girls in the city who would willingly dive into your bed. And you give that up.”

“I don’t want a girl. I want a mermaid.”

* * *

Derek arrivedat his apartment still smiling at the story he’d told Mark and Christian. As he put the key into his lock, Derek spied a small puddle of water outside his door.

Opening the door, he found Xenia inside wearing the white skirt and cami he’d first seen her in.

She ran to him and threw her arms around him. “Happy anniversary.”

“One year,” he said, kissing her deep and slow. “Seems like yesterday.”

“It’s not the only anniversary we have to celebrate today.”

“Really? What’s the other one?” he asked, gently playing with the mermaid pendant that still hung around her neck.

“Today is the two-week anniversary of me putting in my two-weeks notice at Fathoms.”

Derek only stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m ready. Not just for you but for everything. Life. School maybe. The real world. And I’m ready for this.”

Slipping her hands behind her neck, she unclasped her mermaid pendant and laid it in the palm of Derek’s hand.

“I can’t accept this gift,” he said solemnly.

Xenia’s eyes fell. “Why not?”

“It’s too precious for you to just give it away.”

“But—”

“How about a trade?”

Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out a large, shimmering sapphire and diamond ring—sapphire, the color of the ocean, the color of Xenia’s eyes.

Kneeling down on one knee, Derek opened his mouth but Xenia gave him no chance to speak. She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder.

“This is a ‘yes,’ right?” he asked, trembling.

She nodded, but no words came out.

“We can wait as long as you want,” he said. “For the wedding. For sex. Whatever you want.”

“I want you,” she whispered as he slipped the ring on her left hand. “Tonight.”

Derek took her in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. He hadn’t even let himself hope this would happen tonight. The past year had been a lesson in endurance for him. Some nights, he wouldn’t even let her come over because the need in him burned too hotly. But after a few months, she ceased to be an object of sexual obsession and became instead his closest friend. With sex off the table, they had to improvise. They talked for hours, went for walks, went dancing. Derek finally learned how to beat her in Go Fish—he cheated just like she did. He learned she loved the Go-Go’s and white chocolate and could speak French and Persian fluently. She started to go out more. Six months ago, she had started giving swimming lessons at a local gym. Last month, he met her parents. Last week, she met his. And next week she’d finally get to meet Mark and Christian.

They hadn’t been saints during the past year, of course. Not even his ex-wife or Ireland knew his body as well as Xenia did now. Her nimble fingers and full lips and tongue could send him to the heights of erotic ecstasy. And with his mouth and one finger, he could make her wake the neighbors. Tonight he wanted to make her wake the whole town.

Derek laid her back on the bed and slowly undressed her. Even after a year with his little exhibitionist mermaid, he never ceased to be moved by the sight of her naked curves. He kissed her lips, her neck and chest. She dug her hands into his hair as he took a nipple into his mouth as his hand sought her other breast. He wanted their first time together to be as painless as possible. He wanted her wet inside and aching for him.

“Derek, please,” she begged.

“Patience,” he teased. “You made me wait a year. It’s only fair I make you wait a few more minutes.”

Still dressed, Derek spread her legs and sat between her open thighs. He opened her folds and slipped a finger into her. As usual, she sighed blissfully and lifted her hips to take him in deeper. For the first time ever, Derek turned his hand and pressed a second finger inside her. He felt the barrier of her virginity against his fingers.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he said softly.

“Feels wonderful.”

He took her clitoris between his thumb and index finger and gently massaged it. Xenia’s head fell back in pleasure while Derek pushed down on her hymen. He put both thumbs in her, gripped her hips, and pulled her wider open. Bending over her, he took a nipple in his mouth again and sucked deeply while he slowly pushed a third finger into her. He wanted her on the edge of orgasm when he penetrated her the first time.

“Derek….” she groaned.

Derek pressed his forehead to hers. “Xenia, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Xenia laid her hand on the side of his face. His fingers still rested deep inside her.

“Your tail will then disappear,” Xenia quoted softly, meeting Derek’s eyes. “And shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you.”

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s from The Little Mermaid, the fairy tale. It’s what a mermaid feels when she becomes a human woman. Great pain. Derek, I’m ready to be human.”

A tiny knot formed in Derek’s throat. In Xenia’s eyes he saw not a single flicker of fear—only love, trust, and desire.

He kissed her once, pulled away from her, and undressed. Naked now he stretched on top of her. Xenia opened her legs for him and he pressed the tip of his straining erection against her hymen.

“I love you,” he whispered and thrust fast and hard into the very core of her. He gasped, his eyes wide open. It had been over a year since he’d been inside a woman’s body. His heart pounded in his chest, blood throbbed in his ears. Staying in her without moving, without pumping madly into her, strained every ounce of Derek’s self-control.

An anguished whimper from underneath him brought Derek back to himself.

“Breathe,” he begged Xenia, running his hand through her hair. “Try to breathe.”

Xenia nodded and buried her head against his chest. All around him he felt her heat, her wetness, and her tight inner muscles trying to push him out of her. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled them onto their sides. He rubbed her lower back and hips, massaging them until her muscles started to unknot.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, kissing the tear on her cheek.

“Never.” She smiled at him and tentatively pressed her hips into his.

Groaning, Derek pushed her onto her back again and thrust deep. He breathed slowly, willing himself to hold back. But Xenia’s body held him like a hand. Her clitoris swelled at his touch. With short sharp thrusts he moved in her, trying to mask her pain with pleasure.

Taking her legs in his hands, he pushed them as wide as they could go. He moved more easily inside her now. With long full thrusts he rode her, relishing the sensation of her body wrapped around his.

Finally, he heard Xenia’s breathing change. He’d learned long ago that when her breaths turned sharp and shallow, she was close to coming. Locking his arms over either side of her shoulders, he increased his pace, moving in her with thrusts both meticulous and frenzied.

Pressure built deep in his hips. Xenia cried out under him as her climax sent her body clenching wildly around his. With a last thrust, Derek clutched her to him, pushed once more, and poured into her.

Afterward, Derek lingered inside her, kissing her lips, her face, her forehead.

“Was it worth waiting for?” he asked. He knew his answer—yes. And he would have gladly waited longer.

Xenia wrapped her arms around his neck and sank into the sheets. Sighing tiredly, she smiled. “It was worth everything.”

After a few minutes of simply enjoying being inside her, Derek slid out of her. He washed the blood off them, pleased to see the damage hadn’t been as bad as he feared. Xenia surprised him by wanting to try again almost immediately. With the aid of some lubricant and an hour of foreplay, they managed to make love again, this time without pain. Derek stood at the side of the bed and moved in Xenia as she lay on her back, her hips at the edge of the mattress. Next he would teach her doggy style, then woman superior…maybe they’d just start the beginning of the Kama Sutra and work their way through it. He felt like a virgin himself in a way—until tonight, until Xenia, he’d never made love.

Finally spent they lay on their sides, Xenia’s back nestled against his chest.

“You think Kingsley will come to the wedding?” Derek asked, kissing the silver fin tattoo on her shoulder.

“No. But knowing him, he’ll try to come on the honeymoon.”

Derek laughed as he lightly teased her nipples with his fingertips. “Honeymoon sounds good. The ocean?”

“Of course,” she said, pressing her bottom into his growing erection. Maybe they’d try it from behind this time. “No kids though. Nothing bigger than you is ever going in or coming out of me.”

“I won’t argue with that. Dogs then?”

“Dogs need yards. Cats?” Xenia suggested.

“I’m allergic. So no kids, no dogs, no cats. Hmmm…Wait, I’ve got it.”

Xenia turned over and grinned at him through the dark. Even in the low light, he could see the childlike mischief in her eyes. Ten years from now, a hundred years from now, he would still love those ocean eyes.

“What?” she asked.

He ran his fingertips over her face and down her arms, and then traced the tattoos that adorned her hips.

“Fish.”

* * *