Angeleyes - eARC

by Michael Z. Williamson

  “Yes, he is,” her father said, still very cautious. He was looking at me, trying to gauge how I fit in.

  “Hi, Ritchie,” she said to a boy who was a year or two older. He kept wrinkling his brow at her and then at me. He wasn’t sure about this whole thing.

  Then she threw her arms around him, too.

  I was about to make introductions when she came running over and said, “Come here!” She snatched my hand, turned and began stomping back toward them, dragging me.

  I let her lead me, and she said, “Anzhee.” Then she held my arm out toward her parents and said, “Mom’s name, Ruth. Dad’s name, Mawhk.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  Ruth said, “Thank you. Angie?”

  “Yes, lady. Angie Kaneshiro.”

  “How did you . . . ?”

  “I was passing by the school when pressure failed.”

  Mark asked, “But why so late?”

  “I had to take a detour. The crowd was bad, so I went straight for an empty ship, not the nearest.” I really didn’t want to tell them I’d been passlegging. “I got here as quick as we could.”

  Mark said, “Please, come eat with us.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  Money didn’t seem to be a problem for them. We went to a place I’d walked past and never had the creds to go in. Even now, there wasn’t a huge line. We got seated, and served fast.

  Juletta babbled, and they sat on either side, hugging her constantly, while the big brother sat next to me, right across from her. I just paid attention to my deep fried chicken, which was really good stuff. Juletta munched french fries and bacon sticks.

  They had much neater table manners than I did, too. But they didn’t mention it.

  “Can we offer you a reward?” Ruth asked.

  I could always use money, but, “Uh, you can offer, but I didn’t do it for a reward, and I had to evacuate, too. I’d have taken others if I could.”

  “What do you do for work?” Mark asked.

  “I’m contract on cargo ships.” I finished my chicken and washed down the rest of my limeade.

  “On contract now?”

  “Not after that, but as soon as I can find one I should be.” I wasn’t sure that was true at all.

  “At least take a token,” he said. “You saved our little girl.” They all grinned at each other again. She really was a cute thing.

  “Sure,” I agreed. “And thank you. Though I would do it again either way.”

  He slid his hand across the table with five one-hundred Mark notes. Not as good as Credits, but they’d last me a couple of weeks if I was frugal.

  “Thank you very much,” I said.

  “I don’t know how things will play out back home, but here’s my card in case we can meet again. Our address is global and portable.”

  I looked at it. He was some sort of investment adviser.

  “Okay. I’ll ping if I can. It would be neat to see the little weasel again,” I said. Hell, I’d been grinning, too. I’d done a good thing.

  I slipped off my stool, walked around, and bowed to both. Then I gave Juletta a big hug. She was warm and cuddly still.

  “Good luck, little girl. You be good.”

  “I will! See you soon, Anzhee!”

  Yeah, I wasn’t going to explain how that was unlikely. She should have fond memories.

  I shouldered my bag and walked away. I wanted to look back, but didn’t.

  CHAPTER 7

  I spent a few hours in a waiting room off one of the alcoves. I didn’t sleep well, but it was free. The chair didn’t recline and had no headrest, so I leaned across my bag. I wasn’t going to waste cash on a room for the time I had, even a bunkie. I just wanted to get onto second shift to try to find a job. I figured there’s be less traffic for midwatch.

  Pretty much everything was full, or not moving. Nothing was going in-Freehold, little in-Earth. Lots of ships were parked in orbit waiting for something, and eating assets while they did. I considered a bunkie but they were all full, some of them double. I settled for a dock shower for ten marks and got clean, washed both suits and aired them dry, and even caught a nap in the heat dry nook that helped a bit. I’d need real berthing tonight, though. There weren’t going to be many hangouts. Everything was full with transients, and the cheapest all booked. Well, not the very cheapest, but uggh.

  There weren’t any openings stationside, either. I was glad for that M500. It was down to M450 and once that was gone I was down to my savings and previous pay.

  I went back to that nice restaurant, ordered their M10 hot chocolate, told the server I’d be right back, and went to their bathroom.

  Damn, it was nice. I cleaned up some more, brushed on some eyes, painted my lips and swapped out for my third outfit, a ziptop, diagonal zipped skirt, and stockings. I left M13 with the server, chugged the chocolate, which was good, but damn, that was a lot of money, then headed back to the dock.

  It was quieter, though still busy. I found the locker I keep there in Spaceman Spiffy’s Storage, shoved my bags in and pulled out a mini-pack. It was a bit musty, so I spritzed it with lemon sanitizer, shoved in money, batteries, my lock pin and some makeup, and closed back up. I chewed my lip for a moment, being careful of the lipstick, and decided to drop M25 on another three months’ locker rent now, against trouble later.

  Then I took ramps and slides to the Orbit Room.

  At the door, I heaved my cleave, glinted at the door dude, and he let me slide. I was dressed upscale enough, and was obviously going to milk customers for business. He understood I was freelance, not a pro, and there wouldn’t be any trouble.

  I was dizzy-tired, so I bought a stim and chugged it. In a few moments, I was dizzy-tired and wired awake at the same time. I knew I was going to be a bit off.

  The guys in the place saw skirt and cleave. I knew what they wanted, they knew what I was offering. I waited for the music to shift to something I liked, and slid onto the floor.

  At .8G and in those lights, the ziptop bounced with my chest and flickered colors. That was exactly what I wanted.

  In half an hour Caledonia clock, I had four men watching me very closely. None of them were hideous, but one of them would have to be very nice and loaded to be worth it, or have a Dick of Death.

  One of the others was probably married, if I guessed right. I wasn’t going to help with his drama.

  One was young. He was very nicely built on the slim side, and a charmer. One was right in my favorite zone, about thirty-five Earth years, confident and probably had decent money.

  I waggled a finger and he came out onto the floor. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he could move and kept a nice touch on my shoulders, then my hips, without trying to grope. Oh, but he wanted to.

  I turned and rubbed close, then stepped back, and kept dancing. I let three songs go by, then stopped, and took his hand back to his table.

  “I’m Angie,” I said.

  “I’m Byron,” he said. He held my chair. That doesn’t happen often.

  “Thank you, and glad to meet you.”

  I like dancing. I like the lights, the movement, the shifting sensation, and that can be better on a station. I’d have stayed all night and skipped sleeping. But I really needed sleep, and a place to sleep.

  “What are you up to?” he asked.

  “I was on station in Grainne when they had that atmo leak. You heard?”

  “Yeah! What was that like?”

  “Scary. I hopped a ship and came here. I’m trying to get back onto another freighter, but it’s going to take me a couple of days. I haven’t been here since April, I think. I figured I’d stop in and dance.”

  The place was suddenly very full, all the chairs, all the floor. I’d been raising my voice to compensate.

  “How bad was the leak?”

  “Big enough I felt it,” I said. We talked on that for a bit, at a shout. He ordered a beer and got me a lime cooler. I wanted my breath fresh.

  We went back out to dance, tagg
ing the seats so we wouldn’t lose them. This time we were closer, though we wouldn’t have had a choice. This time his hands were on my waist and along my sides.

  I was loopy from fatigue, stim and a little booze, and I wanted to get to sleep, but I didn’t want to come across as a quickie or a pro.

  We didn’t talk much when dancing. He did have good feedback senses, though, even if he couldn’t dance well.

  But, an hour later, he asked that important question.

  “How long are you staying tonight?”

  “I’ll let you decide that,” I said. “I could dance all night, but I am tired, and if you’ve got something in mind, tell away.”

  “Is my place out of the question?”

  “That depends. Is it nearby and nice?”

  “Yes and very.”

  “Then it’s in the question.” I smiled.

  He waved his chip and we got up to go.

  I talked him into a chicken burger. I tried to eat neatly, because I eat like a pig. I went from modern hippie living to the Forces to ship crew. I just sort of stuff it in my face, but I’ve learned from watching what neat looks like.

  While we ate, he rubbed my thigh and I wiggled and grinned.

  Slideway took us to .5G, and around radius. That was Posh Side, as they call it, and I figured I’d done okay that way. He seemed decent. Whether he was like that in private, and if he was any good, I’d find out. But guys in those quarters don’t tend to be thieves and he didn’t look like a smuggler or narco—using or selling drugs that are restricted by law.

  We walked into the Windsor Arms, and I was impressed. I’d seen the place. Going inside was exciting. They had a lot of cube in the lobby, which cost them money. His room was on the radius flat, not up or down. It wasn’t a suite, but it was still a nice room.

  He waved the door open and I walked in.

  Damn. Nice room.

  UltraRez screen window. Fleece and cotton bedding over memory cushions. Panto chairs. The bathroom had all the fixtures including rain and six-way shower and hot soak.

  “I’d like to shower before anything else, if you don’t mind,” I said. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “Surely. Can I help you wash your hair?”

  Oh, my.

  “After, you can definitely wash my hair. Right now I just want to get clean. I won’t take long. Fix a drink?”

  “I will,” he said with a smile.

  I grabbed him and got a liplock on him. He could kiss. That was very promising.

  I skipped into the bathroom and closed it.

  I did shower fast, getting soaped, scrubbing skin, and moisturizing with a blow dry. The shower did all that for me with jets of water, air and subsonic tickles. It even had an option for sensual massage, but I was going to let him do that first.

  I got out, dressed again, and stepped through.

  “That was fast,” he said.

  “I’m girly, but I’m also crew. You can’t waste time aboard ship.”

  “Gotcha,” he said. “Solid state materials analysis isn’t as tight.”

  “You’re good at engineering?” I asked.

  “Good enough,” he agreed. “Why?”

  “This outfit has two zippers. One pulls down. One pulls diagonally up.”

  He came out of the seat, right up to me, grabbed both, and pulled perfectly.

  I sank to my knees. His pants were more complicated, but I managed.

  * * *

  I woke up. I blinked, felt around, and he was next to me. Right. Byron. The lights were about five percent.

  I honestly couldn’t remember what we’d done. I’d been that tired. I glanced for time, and I’d been out for three hours solid.

  I wasn’t sure about etiquette here because I wasn’t sure what his schedule was. I figured it couldn’t hurt to gently try, though.

  I kissed down his side, over his hip, and got my mouth on him, and he woke up.

  “Mmm!” he muttered.

  “Mmmhmm,” I agreed. He was shapely and tasty and this was going to be fun, now that I could remember it. I had no idea what we’d done earlier.

  I did this time. And again three hours after that, which included bacon (turkey for me), eggs, rice pudding and fresh melon. Gods, that was good. I sat there in a robe making sure he had glimpses of my cooze and cleave and smiling whenever he looked at me.

  “When do you need to leave?” he asked. “Waiting ship?”

  He didn’t remember what I’d said. Otoh, I didn’t remember a lot of what he said. That wasn’t why we were here.

  “Variable,” I said. “I can leave whenever you’re ready. If I don’t find a ship at once I can lodge.”

  “I can spot you another day if you need,” he said. “I have to leave here in an hour, but I’ll be back at nineteen hundred clock. Tomorrow I go groundside again.”

  “I accept your hospitality,” I said. “And you said something about washing hair.”

  “If you like.”

  “I do.”

  He washed good hair. I was clean and my scalp massaged, and ready to melt.

  I went to my locker, being stared at dressed in that outfit. There were a lot more crew moving around. I drew a shipsuit and changed in a bank’s restroom, pulling it up, zipping off the skirt, and repeating for the top. Then I wove a bodysuit in, and reached in and out to fasten it around and under, inside the suit.

  Byron had even helped me pin and tie my hair. I looked professional and was ready to shill.

  There were no ships.

  Nothing was going back to the Freehold. Traffic with Earth was slow. Stuff was coming out, but nothing was going in for the time being. I checked Novaja Rossia and Alsace. All the ships not on the other legs had diverted, and were full. I passed out some cards, inquired at offices who knew me on sight. Nothing.

  I was back in the lobby, still wearing my work clothes, a bit before 1900, hoping Byron had been honest and wasn’t delayed.

  He showed up about five after. He looked mentally wiped out, but cheered up when he saw me.

  “You’re still here.”

  “Yeah, ships are still diverting.”

  “Sorry to hear that, but I’m glad to see you.”

  “You too,” I said.

  “Can I take you out for steak?”

  “Make it salmon or hake and I’m in.”

  “They will have it. Want to change?”

  I took the hint. We went to the room and he swapped jackets. I had a small bag with me, and put on a basic dress. My hair was still up, so I did a quick paint on my outer lips, since I was going to be eating, and highlighted my eyes.

  The Conway was higher end than any restaurant I’d been in.

  We walked in, and they had an actual maitre d’ whatever.

  “Good evening, Mister Vyas. Two this evening?”

  “Please,” he said. “Quiet, if possible.”

  “It’s always possible, sir. This way, please.”

  So, they knew who he was.

  In fact, as soon as we sat down, they slid a gin and tonic with lime in front of him.

  “For you, miss?”

  “I’ll try one,” I said.

  The barman was mixing it manually as soon as I said so. It was there in thirty seconds.

  Gin and tonics are tart, slightly sweet, and have a . . . bitter taste, I guess. I prefer beer or fruity wines, but they’re drinkable.

  “Client is paying for this,” he said. “But I don’t want to soak them too much. They were good people.”

  “I got it,” I said. They had an itemized menu, so I picked the smoked private vat salmon, tunnel mushrooms and broccoli. He ordered a ribeye steak.

  They delivered seared tuna on cabbage with horseradish shavings, and sparkling water.

  “This is good!” I said, and reminded myself to eat politely.

  “Yeah, I can’t afford them often, but on contract I make a point of concluding with a good meal.”

  “Definitely,” I agreed.

&nb
sp; Anything we needed was there without asking. Refills on drinks, a spare napkin when I had to wipe up a sauce spill, and a dessert menu.

  “Oh, damn,” I said. Cheesecake with black raspberry ice cream and chocolate chunks.

  “Yeah, I love that stuff,” he said. “It’s hard to avoid eating too much here.”

  They brought it out and it was amazing. I wasn’t sure I could bend enough for good sex.

  I asked for hot chocolate while he had tea. “Bittersweet,” I said.

  “Alcoholic?”

  “Well, sure.”

  Almost at once, the server slid it in front of me. The real crystal mug was a work of art and the drink in it had layers of color and cream.

  I tasted it, and about had an orgasm.

  “What’s in it?”

  The drink server said, “Milk and dark chocolate, heavy cream, Irish cream, Chambord and dark sweet rum. It should complement your dessert.”

  “If I hadn’t finished it, I’m sure it would.” I wanted to write that down.

  “I’ll get another if you like.”

  “No, no, I’m stuffed. Thank you so much.”

  Back at his room, we kissed deeply, and I groped him back.

  “I’m still stuffed,” I said. “But if I lie on the bed and bend back, my throat’s pretty flexible.”

  His expression was amazing. I laughed.

  I stripped the dress and hung it, flopped across the bed, bend my head back, and slid a hand into myself. He got in position and I put my other hand on his ass. He grabbed both breasts, and I felt decently used. I kept control of my muscles and felt that otherworldly glide instead of a gag.

  After that I pulled him down and straddled him. It kept weight off my stuffed belly, and let me find a nice angle for an inside belly rub. I felt my brain disconnect.

  The next morning we had to leave. I took his card, and made notes. It wasn’t likely we’d meet up, but things happen.

  CHAPTER 8

  I went back to the docks, stiff in the thighs, worn in my cooze, tight in my jaw and stretched in my ass. I was sure I looked as thoroughly fucked as I was, but I put on my professional mask and went to work.