“I’m sure,” she said drily.

“Especially some of the interesting devices I’ve had installed in my own quarters. Many of them custom-built, you know.”

“I can imagine.” There was a pause. “You don’t intend to turn around, I take it?” she said finally.

He sniggered. “Not while I’m still vertical, sister!” He kicked over the autopilot and reached out. Not voluptuous, no, but the breast that filled his left hand was more than satisfying. Expecting at least a mild protest, he was surprised (and a bit disappointed) when she continued to allow him to fondle her.

“All right. That little island coming up on our left . . . the one with the climax vegetation.”

“Clever, too,” he grinned. Inwardly he was upset. Sine needles and bugs! Oh well, if she wanted to start that way . . .

“Your wish is my command.” He drew away and swung the hoveraft in a tight arc, slowing.

“Your snappy repartee stuns me,” she said, but he chose to ignore the sarcasm. Plenty of time to wipe that out.

He pulled into a small cove, dodging one floating log, and cut the engine at the proper moment. The Phaeton sank gently into the sand. He released the doors, letting her exit first so he could watch the tight suit tauten over her perfect backside as she stepped out. He followed.

Passing her, he unlocked a side storage compartment in the lee of the ship, started to pull out a large package.

“I think you’ll find that for an inflatable setup this is rather exotic, including as it does a—”

“Don’t bother.”

He paused in his unwrapping, looked up at her. She was grinning right back.

“I hope you’ll understand, but while you’re not bad looking, something about obvious cosmetic jobs puts me off my tick. More importantly, initial psycho-emotional analysis indicates mental discrepancies confluent with your successive immature oeillades.”

“Huh?”

“To summarize, you don’t turn me on, buster. And besides,” she said as she turned to re-enter the cab of the raft, “it’s way past my check-in time.”

“Just a second, pretty bitch. You know what this is?” All pretense at politeness had been dropped. A small object sat in his palm. She glanced down at it.

“It appears to be a Secun vibraknife, battery powered. Very efficient. It will cut many metals, most plastics, but not ceramic alloy and a few other things. Do I pass?” She was facing him now, hands on hips.

“Oh you are funny. But we’ll change that. Since your face is not composed of ceramic alloy, or ‘a few other things,’ this toy is sufficient to make a very unpretty mess of it. I’d rather do this nicely, but if you’d rather be persuaded—”

“Okay, okay. I was only kidding, luv! I’m convinced.” She came towards him, biting her lower lip uncertainly, and put both hands around his neck. Trembling, her lips moved towards his.

Kingsley was puzzled. He couldn’t remember lying down. That blueness above him was unquestionably the sky, so he knew he was lying down. Yes, it was very blue and had fluffy white clouds in it.