I Won A Spaceship

by Harrision Park

  I gave the solicitor my most insincere smile while Fiona stifled a giggle.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked as we left.

  “Cash everything; house, furniture, car, insurance policies, pension… the lot. Stick it all into a savings account somewhere. Oh, if you want anything from the house, take it. After that, give John and Francis a free hand. I promised them. The rest… sell it. And if you need for anything, tap the account. Don’t hesitate, just do it.”

  She swallowed hard. “It seems so… final, somehow.”

  “It is, Fee,” I said seriously. “It’s very final. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t even know if I’ll be back. If I do, I’ll be in touch. That’s a promise.”

  “Will you give me a ride in your spaceship?”

  “That I will do.”

  In the middle of the street, she hugged me.

  We stuffed our faces with carry-out pizza while we waited for dusk. It had been arranged that we would meet Hermes at an abandoned factory at the edge of one of the small peripheral towns that the city had almost, but not quite, swallowed up. We would have to make two trips and I insisted on taking the electronic stuff first. This involved unloading Lorca’s loot and loading mine and caused some low-level grumbling. Fiona came with me as she could read a map. We found the site without any problems. When we got there we found the gate was rusted shut. This proved to be only a minor setback as the fence on either side had been knocked flat. We parked behind the factory and waited, the silence of the night broken only by the ticking of cooling metal from the van and the muted rumble of traffic from the motorway.

  We were just beginning to wonder if Hermes had got lost when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Descending silently from the clouds came the steegee. It was most unsettling to watch something that large drift noiselessly down and settle on the cracked concrete. The door hissed open and Hermes stood silhouetted against the dim light.

  “Hullo, Hermes,” I said, strolling forward.

  “Crawford,” he acknowledged with a nod.

  He stepped down.

  “Hermes, this is my sister, Fiona. Fiona, Hermes, number one space pilot and trusted friend.”

  Fiona stuck out her hand. Hermes smiled and shook it. A look of shock crossed Fiona’s face as she felt the non-human fingers clasp hers. She recovered quickly.

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” she said. “I hope you manage to keep him out of trouble.”

  Hermes sighed dramatically and shook his head slowly. “Madam, a whole army couldn’t keep your brother out of trouble.” He ran a hand through his shock of orangey-brown hair. “I’ve lost half my hair already with the worry.”

  Fiona’s delighted tinkle of laughter drifted on the still night air.

  “We’d better get started,” I said with a snort.

  “Right you are. By the way, I’m sorry about the cats.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. They were very ill.”

  He nodded. “I shall miss them.”

  “You and me both.”

  I knew he understood. That was one of the things I liked and admired about Hermes. He didn’t need to say much but still managed to convey exactly the right sentiment for the occasion and appear to be genuine about it.

  “What in the name of all the gods is all that,” he exclaimed as I opened the van doors.

  “Toys for Julian.”

  He looked at me askance. “Not just for Julian, I think.”

  “The thought had occurred.”

  The table tennis table was first. The steegee wasn't really designed for cargo so it took a bit of manoeuvring to get it safely stowed.

  “Couldn’t you just have used the dining table?” he complained as he mopped the sweat from his brow.

  “Of course not. You’ve got to have a proper table.”

  “Getting it out will be a bit of a problem.”

  “Surely there’s a cargo hatch?”

  “Hmm. We’ll worry about it later.”

  “There’s no urgency. It can stay there till we get to Geretimal.”

  The boxes were easier but there were a lot of them and we were both breathing heavily by the time we’d finished.

  “I should demand a wage rise,” he complained to Fiona. “I’m a pilot not a warehouseman.”

  “I hope you’re a better pilot, then,” she said with a wicked grin. Fiona’s contribution to the effort had been, of course, to supervise.

  “Ouch,” he winced. “That one was worthy of your brother.”

  “I’ll treat that with the contempt it deserves,” I said. “We’ll be back in about two hours. Wait if we’re not here.”

  “Right you are, boss.”

  He gave me a mock salute and climbed back into the steegee. The doors hissed shut, cutting off the light, and the large pale machine rose as silently as a hunting owl.

  “That’s plain spooky,” Fiona said quietly.

  “For once I’m forced to agree with you.”

  We bumped out of the site and turned down the road home

  “You know, for an alien he’s a pretty good sort,” she said casually.

  “As a sentient being, he’s one of the best. I’ve no idea why he threw his lot in with me but I’m damn glad he did.”

  “I’m glad, too. I like him.”

  It took over an hour to get back and load the van. This time Lorca insisted on coming with me. Perhaps she didn’t trust me to take proper care of her precious material. We were no more than five minutes on the road when I realised we were being followed. A second glance in the mirror confirmed it was the police. I groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Lorca said.

  “The local constabulary are on our tail. I hope they’re just cruising and I hope they disappear before our turning. I don’t want to explain why we’re visiting a deserted factory in the dead of night.”

  I kept an eye on them in the mirror, praying they would either overtake us or turn off somewhere, while keeping a lookout for the road to the factory. My nerves must have affected my driving for the blue light came on and they flashed their headlights. With a sigh I pulled in to the side of the road.

  “Remember, keep your cool and be polite and address them as ‘officer’,” I warned Lorca as I wound down the window.

  “’Evening, sir,” one said as his partner circled the van. “Mind telling me where you’re going?”

  My brain froze. No plausible story came to mind. Lorca leaned forward.

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that,” she said with a smile.

  “Oh? And why would that be, Miss?”

  “If we were to tell you where our secret location was, it wouldn’t be secret any more.”

  The constable took a moment to digest this.

  “Secret location, Miss?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why would this location be secret?”

  “So my rivals will not find it.”

  “Rivals?”

  “Yes, officer. My business rivals. I have many.”

  This was something the constable could understand.

  “And which business would that be, Miss?”

  “I am Lorca Lhewlyn Dibhach. I create fashions for discriminating ladies.”

  The constable was lost again.

  “Fashions? You mean like clothes?”

  Lorca gave a contemptuous toss of her head. “I do not make clothes, I create fashion. The very best fashion. My rivals would give much to know what I am doing.”

  “Oh. And what are you doing?”

  “Heading for a secret location where I will produce my next masterpieces.”

  I had to hand it to Lorca, she was a superb actress.

  “Ah.” The constable nodded as if all was explained. “But why in the middle of the night?”

  “It is bad enough I have to travel in this… vehicle, but that I must also sneak about at night… It is too much.”

  The other policeman, a younger man, had finished his inspection and
was standing just behind his partner with a small smile on his face.

  “Perhaps, Alec, if they were to let us see what’s in the van..?” he suggested gently.

  “Er, yes. Would you mind opening the doors, sir.”

  In the guise of hapless employee, I looked at Lorca who frowned.

  “Very well,” she said. “But you must give your word you will tell no-one of what you see.”

  The younger constable grinned. “Provided it’s not illegal, I think we can give you that assurance, Miss.”

  They stood back to let me out. Lorca slipped out the other side. I opened the van doors with a flourish revealing the rolls and bundles piled in the van. The younger policeman inspected the labels.

  “I assume you have receipts for all this,” the older policeman said to me.

  “Of course, officer. How would we claim back the VAT otherwise?”

  The younger man was rather pink about the cheeks.

  “What, exactly, is it you design, Miss?”

  Lorca looked him up and down. She was sanding very close to him with her breasts thrust out. There was nothing blatant, she just oozed sex. A small gust of wind carried her scent to me.

  “You are a fine strapping young man, officer. You have a partner, a girlfriend, yes? She likes to please you; to please her man? She likes to dress nicely for you… or should I say undress?”

  The younger man was now decidedly pink.

  “Er, yes, Miss. I understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do,” the older policeman said suspiciously.

  “Miss…”

  “Dibhach.”

  “Miss Dibhach appears to specialise in ladies underwear. Judging from the labels I suspect you wouldn’t find it in Marks and Spencers.”

  “We’re trying to break into that market,” I said helpfully. “M&S are trying to appeal to the younger woman these days, you know.”

  “You mean…?” the older policeman said.

  The younger nodded. “Perhaps the term ‘racy’ might be appropriate.”

  He glanced at Lorca for confirmation. She beamed at him as if he was a prize pupil.

  “You are a very knowledgeable and discerning man,” she said.

  It was the older policeman’s turn to go pink.

  “When will your new collection be ready?” the younger man asked.

  “This autumn,” I said quickly. “Exclusively on the internet at first. Keep a look out for the latest from Desirée.”

  The two policemen exchanged glances. They were starting to fidget. I was, too.

  “Right, sir, I don’t think we need detain you any longer.” Odd that he kept addressing me though Lorca was clearly in charge. “Thank you for your co-operation.”

  “Not at all, officer. Oh, and if anything takes your fancy, drop us an e-mail and we’ll see what we can do.”

  “Most civil of you, sir.” The notebook snapped shut.

  They beat a hasty retreat to their car. We waved as they did a U-turn and roared off the way they’d come.

  “For God’s sake turn your scent off or we’ll never get to the site.”

  Lorca grinned. “The idea appeals,” she glanced around. “But the environment doesn’t.”

  We climbed back in the van where I ostentatiously wound down the window.

  “I don’t smell that bad.”

  “Precisely the opposite. You smell too good. You were magnificent, by the way. I couldn’t think of anything.”

  She shrugged. “They were men. Men are easy to manipulate.”

  I almost took umbrage until I caught her sly grin.

  “I’m a pushover for sexy brown women with silver hair. I know…” I held up a hand to forestall the inevitable retort, “…I’m a pushover anyway.”

  “I never said a word.”

  Hermes had been getting anxious. We explained about the police and Lorca’s deception.

  “A resourceful woman,” was all he said.

  We quickly loaded the steegee and watched as it took off.

  “Strange to think that’ll be us tomorrow,” I said.

  “Much as I’ve enjoyed my visit… and especially enjoyed meeting your sister… I’ll be glad to be away.”

  “Earth’s not that bad.”

  “It isn’t. I could get used to living here, but knowing we were only here for a few days is unsettling.”

  “I know what you mean. In some ways I’ll be glad to go, too. I’ve burnt all my bridges here and, somehow, I feel I need to move on.”

  Fiona had acquired a bottle of champagne.

  “I know it’s probably not appropriate,” she said, “but this is your last night on Earth… it feels odd to say that… and God knows when I’ll see you again so I thought…”

  I grinned. “A toast to my new life as a space adventurer… eventually.”

  “A billionaire playboy space adventurer,” Jarmasin said.

  “Somehow I don’t see you as a billionaire playboy,” Lorca said, thoughtfully, then grinned. “Mind you I don’t see you as a space adventurer either.”

  “Funny, I had the same thought,” Fiona said.

  “In years to come they’ll make a trivee series of my exploits: ‘The Continuing Adventures of Sir Crawford MacAdam’.” I said huffily.

  This was greeted with hoots of derision.

  I shared with Lorca and Triss that night. Lorca and I made hot, sweaty love, then Lorca coached Triss on the finer points of how to revive me. Triss didn’t appear to realise or care that I was still coated with Lorca’s juices. Somehow that made it all the more exciting and I was hard again in no time. Triss wanted me from the rear. I squeezed her tight little bum hard as I eased into her. Her buttocks were so small I could almost cup them in my hands. Lorca slipped on hand between my legs and fondled my balls as I thrust in and out of Triss’s hot channel. What I didn’t realise was that she was fondling Triss’s vulva at the same time. She pressed her breasts against me and breathed hotly in my ear, murmuring obscene observations and suggestions as her other hand stroked Triss’s back. Triss came then I came. Before either of us could react, Lorca had pulled Triss away, flipped her onto her back and had her face buried between the slender girl’s thighs.

  Poor Triss had no time to object before Lorca’s knowing tongue had her climbing towards another climax. She wriggled and squirmed, her head thrashing from side to side, her narrow hips writhing. Lorca held on grimly as Triss gripped the black woman’s hair, arched her back off the bed and cried out in loud ecstasy. For a long moment she stayed, her body arched in a tense bow supported by shoulders and feet, then collapsed back and passed out. As I had done the night before last I pulled Lorca round and licked the fluids from her face. I tasted Triss’s almost floral juice, my seed and Lorca’s unmistakable hot and musky flavour. She shivered and kissed me hotly.

  We were interrupted by Triss curling up and starting to cry. I held her gently and Lorca stroked her back until her sobs subsided.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked softly. She shook her head. “Triss, we’ve been here before. Tell me what’s upset you. Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  “Yes. I enjoyed it. That’s what’s the matter.” Her voice was muffled by my chest.

  I remembered last night’s conversation. “Triss, look at me.”

  Reluctantly her head came up. “Did you really enjoy it?”

  She nodded.

  “How much? Truthfully, now.”

  “Almost as much as the first time with you.”

  “Good. That was Lorca’s intention.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. Lorca wanted to please you. She did so both of you are satisfied. What’s the problem?”

  “But I shouldn’t get pleasure from another woman.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…”

  “Because it’s what you’ve been told, probably by the men of your world. That’s a very selfish attitude. Why shouldn’t you accept pleasure from whoever is offering it?”

  She mul
led that over.

  “I don’t know.” She managed a tremulous smile.

  “There’s no reason at all. Whether it’s me or Lorca or Jarmasin or anyone else doesn’t matter. The important thing is you do it because you enjoy it, not because you feel you ought to or because somebody’s forcing you.”

  “I suppose.”

  I could feel her relax and breathed a silent sigh of relief. The last thing I needed for the journey back was Triss on her moral mountain-top. I glanced up to see Lorca making cheering gestures.

  “I think you should thank Lorca,” I said.

  “You mean…?”

  “She would appreciate a kiss.”

  “But…” She knew where Lorca’s face had just been.

  “It’s all right.” I made a licking gesture. “I cleaned her. You taste delicious.”

  “Oh. You’re depraved.”

  She coloured but accepted Lorca’s embrace and kissed the dark woman tentatively at first but with growing passion. They were both breathing heavily when they parted. Triss licked Lorca’s cheek and glanced at me slyly.

  “You missed a bit, I think.” She giggled.

  We snuggled up together, any awkwardness gone.

  We decided to spend our last day sightseeing. We did the usual touristy things; the castle, the Royal Mile, the parliament building, Holyrood Palace, Arthur’s Seat. Although it was early for foreign tourists, the ladies didn’t cause too much of a stir. Edinburgh natives who make a living from tourism are much more interested in the colour of your money than the colour of your skin. We bought some tartan trash from one of the numerous ‘Scottish’ gift shops. Triss was much taken with the piper busking on a street corner, the wail of his pipes clashing with the clamour of the traffic. Lorca was less impressed.

  “I didn’t know you wore skirts,” Lashak’ka said.

  “Oh, yes. They’re called kilts and it’s our real native dress. I really wish I’d had the full monty for the Lottery show. Imagine the impact if I’d walked on stage dressed like that?”

  Lashak’ka giggled but Lorca had a calculating look.

  “I wonder,” she said musingly, looking at Fiona. “Perhaps I might come back and visit you one day.”