by Iris Astres
“That’s right,” he said. But he was smiling. Jane was smiling too.
“Oh no!” She made her eyes go wide in mock alarm. “It sounds so much like utter crap.”
“What is true, then? In your opinion.”
“You make girls come.” Jane gave an easy, nonjudgmental shrug. “You’re here to find new customers.”
No objection from the patient. In fact he seemed quite pleased with that assessment.
She ran a gentle hand along his damaged side. The warm shade of his skin made bruises difficult to see, but the cuts and swelling were all clear enough, especially on his right side. As for pain, she didn’t know. He never flinched, no matter where she touched him. If that was macho showmanship, he was an expert at it.
She took the second makeshift ice pack from the tray and placed it gently on his ribs. “You should move this around on the places that are sorest. Every twenty minutes or so.” He nodded, took it from her hand. She watched a moment as he pressed the ice into his side, trying to assess where he was the most badly hurt.
“What else?” he said.
“What else?”
“What else have you been told about my people?”
“Just that you’re prostitutes,” she said without much interest. She was looking for the next thing she should do. Everything she thought of meant he’d have to take his pants off, and she wasn’t sure how she would handle that. “They also say you’re nymphos. Sexoholics. I’ve heard you need sex to survive, like vampires need blood. Is that true too?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She waited for the smile, but this time it didn’t come.
Jane studied him. “You need sex to survive?”
A careful nod.
“So how are you surviving now?”
“Not very well.”
That wasn’t funny. If this man needed sex, he was in lots of trouble because that was one thing that she would not do for him. Jane felt a queasy sort of horror rearrange the muscles in her face. Had she been flirting with him? Even just a little? The thought was sickening to her. “I hope you don’t think I’ll have sex with you, because I won’t.” She frowned hard, willing him to take that in. “I hate sex. I honestly can’t stand it. You’re not seriously saying that you need it to survive.”
“I am,” he said. “I do.”
Please God, let that be bullshit. Just the shit men said about their needs and tragic blue balls and all that.
“I won’t have sex with you,” she said.
“No sex.” His chin dipped in agreement. “The woman chooses, and the choice is good.”
She stared at him. What did that mean? “How long does it take before it makes you sick to be without it?”
He gave a thoughtful look up at the ceiling. “A few days, perhaps.”
Jane didn’t like that answer. “A few days until what?” she demanded. “A headache or a coma?”
“I don’t quite know,” he said. “I’m told the effects vary. I have no personal data, so I can’t really be sure how I’ll respond.” He stopped midway into a shrug. She could see the movement hurt him, and that made her even more unhappy.
“This is the longest I’ve ever been without a woman’s body. And as you can see, there are many competing reasons for discomfort. It’s hard to tell what part is injury and what part is want.”
“This is the longest you’ve ever been without sex?”
He nodded, still staring at her with that perfect eye.
“When did they kidnap you?”
“Yesterday, I think.”
“So, a day is the longest you’ve ever been without sex?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No dissembling. She leaned away from him and stared at the four walls. Sex every day was a nightmare she’d been spared. Rick’s obsession was with cars and drinking buddies, which was perfect. It meant he got up early and expected breakfast. It meant he got home late, more interested in passing out than her. Weekends were the only times she really had to worry. And when her luck wore out, she got through all the fumbling. But Jesus did she hate it.
“Every day.” She made a face expressing her disgust. Not very polite, but she would rather clear away whatever misimpression he might have.
His fingers brushed her hand. Jane looked at him, dismayed.
“My training is to serve the feminine. Not to make use of it. Don’t worry, please.”
“Don’t worry?” Those words always set her off. “You must be fucking kidding me. I brought you here to make you better, not to watch you die.” Jane fidgeted, her panic rising. What should she do? Get back into the car and drive two hundred miles, hoping not to get spotted by Rick or someone who knew Rick or someone who could spot a fucking alien when he saw one?
Or she could try to message someone to come get him? Messaging was probably a better option, provided she could find a center somewhere. She’d heard a thousand stories about how unsafe they were. How easy to trace. But people said a lot of shit that wasn’t true.
“What is it?” He was trying to sit up. She caught the sliding ice pack, soothed him back against the pillow.
“If my presence is a danger to you, then I’ll go.”
“Go?” He looked completely serious, but what could he be thinking? “You’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no place to go,” Jane explained. “If you were in perfect health and in possession of safe transportation, I might agree. But you need to stay here right now. Just let me think what we can do. I was expecting I could nurse you back to health and keep you here until things cooled off. Then I thought we’d both go north together, or I’d get in touch with someone to come get you. I never once believed you’d die from sex starvation. What the fuck is that?”
Jane glared with sheer disgust at the far wall. She noticed for the first time there were dark patches of paint where someone’s pictures had once hung. For a second, she tried to imagine what they’d been. Photographs of cheery family outings? Children? Grandchildren? Now look at it. Jane shook her head. Just shadows, absences. Another sad example of the empty spaces in this world.
Beyond that wall there was a dusty street. Maybe she could go and find a woman for him—someone she could ask a favor of or hire. Excuse me, miss. Jane went through a quick scene in which she asked a farmer’s eldest daughter for a favor. The girl would scream and run off telling everyone about the crazy woman in the teacher house. It had to be her stupidest idea to date.
There might be real whores somewhere. Jane conjured one up in her head and saw that she was not only depressing but unsafe. Nothing would stop a hired woman from talking once she left. If word spread there was a Bod out here, Bill Dancer’s men would finish up the job.
This time the man stood up. She tilted her head to watch him calmly put the ice packs on the tray and walk toward the door, his dark hair brushing his broad shoulders.
“Hey.” When he was halfway through the kitchen, Jane leaped from her chair and started running after him. “What are you doing?”
“I won’t let you risk your safety for my sake.”
“I’m not the one at risk. You are. Go back to bed. You can’t go out there. Are you nuts?” She grabbed his arm with both of hers and swore she wasn’t letting go.
“Give me your word you won’t take any risks.”
Jane stared at him. She’d have to do something to save his life. He saw the hesitation, shook her loose so easily it frightened her.
“Okay,” she said. “I won’t take any risks. I swear.” He had no shirt or shoes and she was certain he would leave that way and not come back. “Please,” said Jane. “It’s dangerous for both of us if you go out there.”
His rigid jaw tightened a little more. He looked at her with his good eye and leaned in to her till she took a step away from all that height and muscle. “Don’t forget you gave your word.” She nodded, watched him move with grace and dignity back to the bed.
“I think I’ll have a snack,” said Jane, still standing in the kitchen. A little
time apart might do them good. “Do you eat anything besides orgasms?”
“Fruits. Grains. Vegetables. Some dairy. But I’m not hungry now.”
No appetite. No good. But she was overloaded and half-useless from the stress. A little lunch, a nice, hot shower first. After that, she’d think of what to do.
Chapter Four
She didn’t want him.
Raj would have found that fact a pity even if it didn’t threaten his existence. She didn’t want him, but he wanted her. Had he a dozen willing women all around him, Raj would long to fuck the lovely woman who’d just saved his life. Her body was compelling, and her stark, budding scent already had a taste for him. The moment she was near him, he could feel her presence on his tongue.
But she didn’t want him.
It was his first rejection. And that fact endeared her to him even more. He’d always been a popular man. In high demand at all the brothels. Beyond that clientele, it seemed his charm could be resisted. What a shock.
What a painfully arousing shock.
The fact that Jane could kill him with that charming no of hers meant he was at her mercy. Not in play, in earnest. And being at that woman’s mercy made him hard as hell. He almost hoped she’d remain heartless to the end so he could burn for her with his last breath. Raj smiled at the thought of such an operatic fate.
For the moment he was fine. Injured, but not seriously so. Without sex, on the other hand, he wasn’t likely to recover. Ever.
How long it would take him to die was uncertain. Like exposure to the elements, death from want of sex could take hours, days, or weeks, depending. Were he alone, he doubted he’d have long to wait. With Jane beside him, willing or no, he could sustain himself for quite some time. Although it brought a different kind of torture.
Perhaps he could seduce her. Win her over to the thought of a hard cock between her thighs.
It was a pleasant notion and Raj let it linger. All it would take was one small inroad, a single gesture that might please her. Once he found it, he’d pursue it till she wanted more. He’d discover with her all the things that she enjoyed. His hands on her body, his lips pressed to hers, his head between her thighs, licking at her pussy, stroking her behind. He would tend that dormant garden inside her until it burst into full bloom. Just the thought would keep him hard and hot the way that he was now, until she’d had her fill.
Imagining sex with Jane soothed Raj’s mind, but made withdrawal gnaw along his nerves like teeth. Despite the bodily discomfort, he let his consciousness have what it wanted, slipping into a sweet dream of her.
Where would her pleasure lie? In domination. In control. In crude words? Lofty gestures? He didn’t know, and so he just imagined fucking her. Fucking her and fucking her and fucking her again.
In the middle of the ebb and flow of dreams Raj heard Jane scream.
Not imagined. Jane was screaming with real terror.
The first shriek had him up before he even knew that he was moving. The choking sound that followed helped him outdistance the pain. Killing for her would be quite a pleasure, but his scan of the surroundings revealed nothing. No sign of any presence. Just the sound of water running and the woman, his brave and beautiful Jane, sobbing out a mix of grief and horror.
The door into the bathroom was ajar. Raj pushed against it, tensed and ready; his attention moved over the four walls, looking for a threat.
She was standing naked, a white towel clutched with both hands to her chest. Her head was bent, and she was gulping air, struggling to beat down some hysteria.
“What is it?” Raj himself was deadly calm.
She sniffed and shook her head. “It’s all right. You can go. I’ll be all right.” She raised the towel up to her face to dry her tears, showing him unwittingly how lovely her nude body was. He took a moment to enjoy her beauty. That supple fullness everywhere. The ample belly, breasts, and thighs he loved most in a woman.
Raj took a step into the room and tried again to understand. All he saw was a small white bathroom trimmed in silver. Functional and utterly generic: shallow sink and mirror, metal cabinet, showerhead over a tub. Jane gulped and raised her face out of the towel to cast a sickly glance toward the curtain. Instantly, Raj swept it back.
“Wait,” she wailed. “Don’t kill it. Please!” She took a tiny step toward him before shrinking back against the wall. Raj stooped, examining the spider in the porcelain tub. It didn’t look particularly dangerous. A spot about the size of his thumbnail with eight long legs attached.
Jane made another mournful sound and gulped for air like she was drowning. “It’s harmless,” she managed. “Give me a second and I’ll find something to take it outside with.”
Raj bent.
“Oh, please!” she begged.
He looked at her. “I’m not going to harm it.”
Gently, he coaxed the creature onto his palm and cupped it there between his hands. The spider curled itself into a ball. Raj watched it through his fingers as he opened the door out to the stoop and released the creature into the night.
When he got back to Jane, she hadn’t moved. The air inside the bathroom had grown steamy from the running shower. She was still clutching her towel and gasping to draw breath.
Raj unfastened his trousers and stepped out of them. She didn’t look at him, didn’t look at anything. He took her towel from her and draped it over the sink before he clasped her hand and led her to the edge of the tub. “Get in,” he said. She balked but not, it seemed, because of him. The spot where there’d once been a small intruder drew her gaze and had her twitching like an animal preflight.
“It’s gone,” he said. “There’s nothing else, so come. The water will be good for you. And for me too. You’ll be all right.”
“You’re coming with me?” She looked embarrassed and relieved, climbing shakily into the tub. Raj stepped behind her into the wet, steamy shower and said a silent thank-you to his spider friend.
JANE HAD NEVER been a weepy girl, not even as a child. When she needed a good cry, she always got it done without risking an audience. Now here she was, wet, naked, and beside herself in front of a stranger.
What had she looked like crying like a kid because she’d seen a bug? Probably like an idiot, but it wasn’t like she’d had a choice. On a good day spiders half that size gave her the screaming willies. And this had not been a good day. She’d just discarded everyone she knew and everything she had. Not just her clothes but things she truly cared about: her mother’s dishes and her father’s books. The one or two mementos she’d risked sneaking out with her didn’t seem like much. Everything was gone. And so her dignity had left her too.
In her defense, it seemed a little cruel of life to put a spider in her shower now. After her escape. The rescue of a half-dead alien. It was a little much. The water washed the constant stream of tears under her eyes, but she was still whimpering, still balled up and shaking with her head down and her hands in fists against her chest. Every part of her was trying to get past the awful feeling things were crawling on her. There was a naked man behind her, and even that noteworthy fact couldn’t get her functioning again.
He reached over her shoulder to check the water temperature. Apparently it met with his approval because he nudged her forward, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her hip. He had a very soothing touch—warm, firm, gently coaxing.
“You’re all right,” he said. “There’s nothing to be frightened of. Try to relax.”
“You’re not afraid of spiders?” Of course he wasn’t. He’d just touched the thing with his bare hand. She took a brave step under the stream. The man reached around her again, picking up the soap.
“Not spiders,” he said in answer to her question. The soap went back into the dish, and she felt slippery hands on both her shoulders. Really, he had an amazing touch. Probably because he was a prostitute. He did this kind of thing for money. Jane let go of some small portion of her stress and let him ease her knotted muscles.
“Are you afraid of anything?” she asked.
“Oh yes.”
That made her curious enough to turn around. Her breasts bumped against his lower ribs. She drew her hands back up with a delayed awareness of her nakedness.
Jane didn’t have a good body. She used to think her brain had possibilities, but even that had let her down after her marriage. Physically the kindest word for her was nondescript. Or “normal-looking” as Rick liked to put it. If medium was normal, then she supposed she qualified in spades. She was medium height and medium build with medium brown hair, basic blue eyes, and a generic, midrange white-girl face. The only thing remarkable about her was the twenty pounds of blubber she’d put on cooking for Rick and his mechanics. Now her big tits had a big belly beneath them. Thunder thighs and bonus booty too. Generally speaking, getting naked in front of anyone, let alone this man, should be painful. But she was so tweaked she couldn’t muster so much as a blush. And what good was a sexy body anyway when you weren’t interested in sex?
“Tip your head back.”
She obeyed, finding it nice to give in to that velvet voice behind her. He found her shampoo on the caddy, snapped the cap. The steam took on a floral fragrance as he poured some in his hand. She closed her eyes and let him lather up her hair. In fact, she let him do it all. Because she was exhausted now. Stoned with stress and grief.
Yes, grief.
That was the part she hadn’t been prepared for. Somehow she’d thought she could put her life down like it was someone else’s ailing pet and walk away unscathed. No such luck.
Something jerked her and Jane gasped, eyes popping open, heart pounding in that crazy restart mode. He was holding her against him. Staring down into her face. She tried to get her weight back, but he wouldn’t let her go. Again she got a sense of strength. Tremendous strength.