Atlantea Ch. 15

"Sure!" I said, enthusiastically.

'Play it cool, dude,' I thought to myself.

To my surprise, Myliya reached between her legs, without blushing or showing any sign of embarrassment. I had assumed she had a spare pair of Kegel balls somewhere on her person. She was wearing what had at first appeared to be a pleated white cloth, about a hand-span wide, wrapped several times around her waist and upper thighs to form an artfully haphazard-looking miniskirt. It matched a similar wrap around her chest. Based on how well it conformed to her shapely curves, never slipping in the slightest, I suspected more Atlantean advanced material science was at play. She fished around for something, which turned out to be a ring, then pulled, groaning slightly. I heard a wet, smacking sound.

"Observe," she said, holding up two off-white balls about a foot from my face.

They were somewhat larger than golf balls, to my eye. One ball was attached to a neoprene-covered ring, and a second ball was attached to the first by a two-inch cord. Both looked wet, and one had a few, faintly discernible smears of a whitish substance. Fascinated as I was by anything related to vaginas, I could not help but ask a question.

"Are they heavy?"

Myliya shrugged as she said, "I know not exactly what these weigh; why not feel for thine self?"

Before I could respond, she took my right hand, turned it palm-up, then dropped the balls into it. My hand sank perceptibly as she did so; I was not expecting them to weigh so much. At the same time, I felt a fluttery sensation in my stomach; she had just casually placed them in my hand, knowing they were covered in at least two types of fluid from her pussy.

"Impressive!" I said, pondering how many women out there would want to hold these inside of themselves for more than a few minutes. "How long d'ya put 'em in for?"

"Three hours, twice per day," she said, with a hint of pride. "I am ahead of the Summer schedule coach sent us!"

She took the balls out of my hand, bent over slightly at the waist, and maneuvered them back inside of herself, scrunching up her face as the orbs squeezed past her lips.

* * *

"And this is?" Mylia asked me. She was pointing at the rightmost statue in a row of seven. We were still in the central atrium at City Hall.

"That's the messenger?" I guessed. Omarasa had covered the seven archetypes in class today, but had not had much time. I had only identified two of the previous six statues correctly.

"Excellent," the blond girl said. "And his name?"

"Nykolis?"

"Nykolos," she corrected, "but thou wer't near the mark!"

The messenger was depicted as a tall male, resembling the statue of David in Florence, except that he was fully clothed, and had winged shoes on. He also had a circlet around his head. Omarasa had explained that the archetypes were quasi-religious figures in Atlantean culture. Somewhat like Jesus Christ, they were all believed to have existed, in the distant past, although precise details of their lives were scant.

The other six archetypes were Yerra, The Captain, a female with a small shield on her wrist; Kharon, The Navigator, a male manning a ship's wheel; Breegya, The Smith, a woman wearing what looked to me like old-fashioned leather and brass driving goggles; Araiya, The Warrior, a woman holding a spear; Seraiya, The Scholar, a tall woman with short hair and a tablet in one hand; and Jenga, The Physician, a woman holding the Staff of Aesculapius. When asked, Omarasa had confirmed that this worldwide symbol of medecine did indeed originate in Atlantea.

"Which of 'em d'you like the best?" I asked Mylia.

"The plupart of younglings, mineself among them, would say The Warrior. Now that I am of age, I find mineself more aligned with The Smith."

"Why's that?"

"I shall read Engineering at university," she explained. When I looked confused by this explanation, she added, "The Smith is the archetype of engineering, among other things."

"Ah. I wonder if Calista feels th' same way. She's'n RF engineer."

My heart beat faster as, once again, I saw faint signs of interest on the face of my teeenaged guide. "I should very much like to meet thine paramour in future; mayhaps thou couldst introduce us one day?"

"'Twould be my pleasure," I said, doing my best to imitate an Iaconian.

"Beef-wit!" Mylia teased, and burst into uproarious laughter.

"That's funny, Xyra calls me that, too," I said.

"What?"

"Beef-wit," I explained.

"Nay, I mean I thought thou said Calista was the name of your paramour."

"Oh no, Calista is my girlfriend. Xyra's, um," I paused, looking at the ceiling far above us, unsure how to explain our relationship, "what does it mean if she calls me her 'squire'?"

Myliya shook her head rapidly from side to side, as if to clear out mental cobwebs. She was peering at me intently, as if seeing me for the first time.

"Xyra's the Iaconian, not Calista?"

"Yup, I met Xyra on th' plane over here, an', well, one thang kinda lead to another."

"And perchance this Xyra is Force Recon?"

I paused for a moment, trying to remember what that term meant. "I reckon y'all call 'em Valkyries."

Myliya's mouth gaped open. "I would like to invest the following utterance with the least offensive aura of meaning possible," she started. "Thou hast a pleasing visage, to be sure, but one we might term a, 'next door neighbor boy' appearance, if thou takest mine meaning. Thus: how is it thou hast two Islander paramours at such an early juncture?" Her eyes roamed over my physique, lingering unabashedly on my midsection. One side of her mouth quirked up.

"Xyra's not a 'paramour'," I protested. "I don' know what t' call her, 'zactly."

My tutor smiled broadly, showing her perfect white teeth. "Mayhaps thou shoulst unearth what Iaconian Valkyries mean by 'squire,'" she said, cryptically.

Before I could ask for clarification, we heard a pinging sound. Myliya looked at her phone, which was vibrating in her hand. She informed me, "I fear I must go! I owe a few hours of service this evening."

"Hours of service?" I asked.

"Islanders of an age must spend some time, each week, doing menial labors, lest our economy suffer. Thank the Mother, my family owns a spa here, and I can fulfill my duties there. It is far preferable to sewer maintenance, as mine greatest friend presently suffers through."

"Wait, didya say spa?"

"Verily," she said.

"Do y'all do waxing?"

"I know not what that means," she said.

"Hair removal. Body hair, in particular," I explained. I had been wondering how I would maintain my hairlessness, especially during the thirty day period on Kumaiya Island, and was elated to find out there was a local clinic.

"Of course," she replied. "How barbaric to utilize wax! Is there not Depilight off-island?"

"Depilight? Never hearda it," I said.

"Pity," she said. "I gather thou needst for thine own person?"

"Yes; would that be possible?"

"Mayhaps at the weekend," she said. "If thou wish it, shall we exchange contact information, such that I might send thee a missive?"

We bumped phones, exchanging our contact info. Since Myliya worked on the island, as I understood the rules, our devices would be allowed to communicate, at least some of the time. She turned and left, at a slight jog, not wanting to be late for work. My gaze lingered on her retreating form, a fabulous sight, and once again my thoughts drifted to Natasha and everyone else I'd left at home.