West of January by Dave Duncan Page B

the sight of her youthful grace, the play of color over her skin as she leaned forward to put her arms around his neck.
    “No, just stay as you were, my dear,” he said. He still wore all his clothes, which must have been surprising to her—even if he had no plans for intimacy, the tent was chokingly hot. “Come here, Knobil, and look at this.”
    I limped across the rugs toward them. The camp outside was falling silent, giving the honored guest peace for his rest.
    “Sit, lad. Closer! Let me show you.”
    Awkwardly I seated myself on Ullinila’s other side.
    “Closer!”
    I heaved myself nearer.
    Ullinila, finding herself between two fully clothed men, glanced from one to other of us apprehensively, not understanding.
    I feasted my eyes on her as greedily as I had eaten her master’s food. I had seen Jalinan naked, of course, but at a distance, and I had been younger then. Ullinila was no older than Jalinan had been and more deliciously rounded, a miracle in smooth brown skin. One long braid hung behind her slim feminine shoulders, the other trailed down between…
    “These breasts, Knobil,” the angel said, “are they not magnificent? Observe the generous proportions, the bold angle and graceful curve, the roseate perfection of the nipples and aureoles. In a hundred camps I have never seen a woman with finer adornments. Feel them!”
    They were indeed superb. I remember them distinctly—exquisite, just starting to swell in the early stages of pregnancy. Violet cupped one breast in his hand. Sweating mightily, I obeyed orders and fondled the other. I wished I was able to pull my knees up. I laid my unoccupied arm in my lap instead.
    “And the soft, luxurious firmness of these thighs…” Violet sighed and stroked. “Statements of strength and promises of indulgence. Feel them, lad! These hips—the ideal of feminine physique expressed to perfection, do you not agree?”
    I may have croaked an answer. I do not recall. My heartbeat had risen dramatically, and not only my heartbeat.
    Now the poor girl was thoroughly alarmed. “You will take pleasure with me now, sir?” she whispered to Violet.
    He sighed. He sat back and crossed his legs. “Perhaps later. First try that young fellow with the big eyes and the bulge in his breeches. He has a stiff leg, also, so he will need some help.”
    I could only gasp, wondering if I had heard him correctly, but Ullinila did not doubt and did not hesitate. She swung around to me with a big smile, white teeth in a heart-shaped child’s face. Still so innocent, I had not dreamed that my slim youthfulness might hold more appeal for her than the balding obesity of my companion. Probably I had never considered that a female could have any preference in such matters.
    It is very alarming for a virgin to have his pants pulled off him by a naked woman and then to be straddled by her as she tugs his shirt up over his head, but she sensed that my need was already urgent, and she expertly did what was required. I discovered that the procedure could be completed in only a fraction of the time I had expected—indeed, I did almost nothing except fall backward, drowning in torrents of unendurable joy. And among those heaving spasms of pleasure, I vaguely decided that if this was what herdmen killed for, then their murders were forgivable.
    All too soon it was over, and I was lying naked and unashamed, sweaty and panting, but secretly exulting in the knowledge that my fears had been unfounded. I was a real man after all! No more need I worry that my strangely pallid coloring indicated some lack of virility. Apparently all my equipment was satisfactory and operating as it was supposed to.
    Ullinila was lying half beside me and half on top, soft yet firm, solid but delicate, smooth and desirable still. I had my arms around her. I reveled in the sweet scent of a herdfolk woman, a distinctive mustiness remembered from my childhood, forgotten once, now recovered and imbued with a new and