by TylerRose.
“Yes. Buy yourself something special,” Tyler insisted.
Tonda hugged her hard. “I’ve never had so much money. Thank you Miss Rose!”
Miss. She didn’t like that either. She’d sort it out eventually.
A long night it was and she ended it with a big fat bowl and long soak in a hot bubble bath with Mozart playing quietly overhead. Sipping iced Sistarian gin punch, she let go the conflicts of the evening.
“Miss Rose? Security Chief Arran wants to see you,” came through the door.
One of the maids was still there?
“Ask him how it feels to want.”
Silence.
“He says it feels like being angry.”
Tyler rubbed her fingertips across her forehead. And people said she took things too literally?
“Tell him to go away.”
The door opened instead.
“I will not be dismissed.”
“What’s so fucking important you have to barge into my alone time?”
“A threat on your life.”
“Oh, so fucking what. Give him a number and tell him to stand in line. I’ve had five of those already this week. Tell him to make it a good attempt. Get out.”
Energy weapon in hand, he sat on the floor next to the tub.
“No.”
“You’re lucky I can’t force-choke you,” she spat.
“Whatever that means. Enjoy your bath. I will be silent, but I will be here.”
“Train a woman for the job.”
“No.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because you wish it.”
She glared hard at him, suddenly seeing Christopher Lloyd as a Klingon.
“That how we’re going to be? You do nothing I want just because it’s what I want?” she challenged.
“Why not? That’s how you treat me.”
A shot to the core right there. He hit the mark. The change in her was visible.
“I do, don’t I,” she said rather than asked.
“Yes, you do. Every minute of every day,” he replied.
“That’s not how I mean it. Really. I hate being manipulated and it all feels like people trying to control me. I never knew how much I hated it until these last few weeks.”
“I do not mean it as manipulation,” he graciously conceded. “It is my job to see to your safety, above all else. I would have no one else here because they are hourly employees with lives elsewhere. I would not put them where the greatest danger will be. That is my job when there is a direct threat.”
“What did the threat say?” she asked, and sipped her punch.
He refilled her glass for her.
“That he would come here in the night and kill you in your bed.”
“Coward.”
“Yes,” Arran smiled. “I told him as much. I told him to do his best and I would treat him as the Rosaas would treat him. Being K’Tran himself, he shut his mouth and walked away. I doubt he will do anything; but I would rather be here all night annoying you than not be here and have him try it.”
“Who are the Rosaas and how would they treat him?” she was suddenly curious to know.
If she had an assignment to K’Tran waiting for her, this would be important information. While he talked, she started to absorb his language. He thought in K’Tran and translated, very quickly, into Landers whenever he spoke.
“They are the ruling body of K’Tran. Three men, elected by the Gars, the lords, and serve for life. They would have him climb naked the Mountain of the Raas and remain atop it for one year, alone. If he survived to come down, he would then be given to the Gar he tried to kill or that Gar’s successor. He would be slave for the rest of his life, which tends to be brief as the recipient usually kills them within a few days.”
She had a hearty laugh, sending ripples through the water and bubbles. “That’s brutal. I like it. Why so harsh?”
“It wasn’t so until recently. The Rosaas system is only a couple hundred years old. The Gars would fight among themselves no end. There was no unity, only self-interest. The Rosaas system has largely unified the planet, as it works toward fulfilling the criteria needed to become a member of the Celestial Congress. A Gar might send an assassin to rid himself of a rival or neighbor he didn’t like. Those murders would happen mostly through the kitchen or the bedroom. So the Rosaas made a law that such a murder happening on a Gar’s land was the most despicable and deserved the harshest of punishments. One prosecution was enough to prove they were serious.”
“No doubt. And Gar is a regional lord of some type?” she asked, keeping him talking.
“Yes. The land owner. He takes in females from other Gars to create his heirs. A Gar’s wealth is measured by the number of soldiers he has in his South House and how many females he keeps in his North House. A woman’s worth is in her ability to bear sons.”
“Of course,” she rolled her eyes. “If I was to visit K’Tran, and they knew I was from another planet, how would I be treated?”
“As the most desirable prize to be had. You would be pursued endlessly because you look so very different. You are pale skinned, light haired, blue eyed. Our women are dusky with dark hair and eyes. Where you are pink, they are mostly brown. You are the sole white mare among the dull brown nags.”
“I find that insulting to the women of K’Tran.”
“It’s not intended to be. It is how K’Tran males talk to and about a female they are intrigued by.”
“Aaaahhh, so you admit attraction.”
“I never denied it,” he said.
“Where did you live?” she asked. “Why’d you leave?”
“I was born to the House of Meathe. It was created by the Second Rosaas when they first were formed, to be his personal household if he retired before dying, so that his son would have a household to inherit. Another was created to be the household of his office. That one is passed from the exiting Rosaas to the newly elected. I was second son of the second wife to Gar Zuman of the House of Meathe. I would never inherit anything. My only choice was to be a soldier in my father or brother’s House. I could have left to join another House, but none were headed by a Gar I would serve. We had learned to travel the stars, learned of other people, so I left entirely.”
“Will you ever go back?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Take a female. Live in a village. Farm. I am no farmer,” he shook his head. “There is nothing to be a soldier for anymore.”
She moved forward to lay her cheek on her arms along the edge of the tub. “Did you argue with your father or brother? Is that why you left?”
“Rare is the father whose lesser sons don’t want something else. Something more,” he replied, picking up the scrubber poof and rubbing it over the soap in the dish.
He reached forward to gently wash her back in slow circles…and she let him.
“There are many rules on K’Tran?” she asked.
“Many,” he replied.
“I would be like the Gar of this station, right?”
“Garae, yes. It does not happen often anymore that a female inherits the House, with so many females to bear a Gar his sons. But there is a title for a female Gar.”
“Is farming the largest industry? I would imagine if K’Tran wants to be a member of the Celestial Congress, it has to have something more than agriculture to offer a galactic society.”
“Grain is one of our largest industries and exports,” he said. “Textiles are popular. Pottery. K’Tran makes a great deal of grain. We export it to planets that have trouble growing food. Every Gar has to have an income to support his House. His village must have an industry to support itself.”
“Are there schools? Universities?”
“Not really. A boy learns from his mother until he is five. Then he learns from the soldiers of his father’s House. The heir and other superior sons will learn mathematics and reading and writing from tutors.”
“And the girls?” she asked, already knowing the
answer.
“Girls learn from their mothers all they will need.”
“Which doesn’t include math, reading, or writing.”
“Not usually,” he agreed.
“The North House must be very big to house all those kids,” she led in a slightly different direction.
“When they turn five, boys move into the Gar’s East House, to separate them from the female influence and begin their training as soldiers and workers in the House industry, as is suitable to their age and size. When he reaches nineteen, he moves to the South House or into a dwelling in the village. Or leaves the House entirely to join another Gar’s House.”
“And the girls?”
“When a girl is fifteen, she is either married to a villager or sent to another Gar’s House to breed heirs.”
“As part of some business deal, no doubt. Flesh to seal the deal,” she scowled.
“Usually. The heir to a House always lives within the main building.”
“So there’s a big house and then three satellite buildings. North for women, toddler boys and all girls. East for young boys growing to be young men. South for men. Leaving the west side open? What about inside the main house?”
“Employees of the Gar. The Houseman is usually roomed next to the Gar Suite.”
“Houseman?” she echoed.
He put the scrubber down and picked up the cup to rinse her back with three pours of warm water.
“A man employed by the Gar to run the House for him, freeing the Gar for the business matters. It is the second most powerful position and often held by a Gar’s brother or uncle. It is also the most coveted. You know him because he wears a symbolic key on a chain around his neck. The key reflects something about the House itself.”
“Cool. So how does the Gar decide which wife to sleep with?” she asked as he put the cup down.
She turned around to lean back against the tub in front of him, the bubbles still covering her chest.
“They are not wives. Villagers marry. Gars collect females and breed with them. One will reside in the Favorite’s room for a quarter of the year. When she is confirmed pregnant, she goes back to the North House. When he wants another, he calls up the one he wants. So long as she’s not pregnant. It is against K’Tran custom to have sex with a woman already carrying a child.”
“What if they’re all pregnant?” she asked.
“He will find a woman who is not and use her. Servants, villagers. The Gar can legally have any female on his land.”
“It’s good to be the Gar,” she quipped, an immediately felt his change of energy.
“When he is honorable,” he said, tight-lipped and scathing. “Just because the law says he can does not make it right.”
“Is that why you left? Your brother inherited and took your woman to bed?”
“Repeatedly. Because he knew I did not like him doing it.”
“That sucks.”
“It does. When she became pregnant and I knew it was his child, I left the planet.”
She turned around again to look at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You did not upset me, Lar Rose.”
Lar…Lady. Lady Rose. She liked the ring of that.
He moved in to kiss her and she kissed him back. Kisses continuing until he reached for a towel. She stood and he wrapped her in it and held a hand out for her to hold as she stepped from the tub. He kept her behind himself as he opened the door to look into the bedroom. No one was there. He walked out normally, taking her directly to her own bed. He stripped the towel from her and put her on her back and opened his slacks. As he bent over, her pale thighs parted wide to offer him the pink that didn’t exist on his own planet.
He was strong without being harsh, deep without ramming, and in control every second. When she tried to make their motion faster and harder, he reached under her to clench a hand into her buttock and stop her from moving. A sensation that blew her breath away with a startled grunt.
“In my time, Lar Rose. Not yours,” he said as she slowed and stilled. “Look at me.”
Her eyes opened and…were not there. Instead of the deep blue, there were solid black orbs shining like glass and filling the entire space behind her lids. That primal energy he’d been sensing within her.
“There you are,” he grinned. “The she-beast within the woman. The insatiable core that is blind to everything but its need.”
“You talk too much,” she growled.
“And you do not talk enough,” he said, keeping to his steady motion.
He let her disappear into herself, one glimpse enough for him to know better what he was dealing with. Steady and even, with a brief pop of force whenever he wanted her to have a good cum, he rode her in one stint until she collapsed under him from exhaustion. Only then did he allow his own climax. She was too spent to stop him gathering her into his arms. Too tired to protest the closeness, she fell asleep.
“Naya anya ee namoyah,” he said about an hour later.
Soldier sleeps, woman content.
“Nya chirok dai migoy namoyah,” she replied.
Soldier needs to fuck woman’s ass.
He laughed, turned her onto her belly and obliged until she broke again. The depths of her passion ran as deep as the fathomless pits ascribed to the prehistoric serpents that lived on K’Tran millions of years ago. She needed little time to recover and want again, which was where the sense of insatiability came from. She could be sated only temporarily, and the more she got, the more she needed.
His watch beeped a waiting message, the screen saying the one issuing threats had left the station…two hours earlier. He said nothing, staying with her until morning.
“This doesn’t mean we’re an item,” she said, waking up to look over her shoulder.
“Of course not. You have a life to go back to five hundred years in the future. As the son of a Gar, I was not raised to love a woman in a long term relationship.”
“You should go back to K’Tran for a while.”
“Why?” he asked.
“First, to break your brother’s jaw and get your woman back. Insist on a DNA test. I think you’ll be surprised. Second, to tell the Rosaas that they have some work to do if they ever want to get into the Celestial Congress. When I go back, I have an assignment waiting for me, to go to K’Tran to assess their application. Again. Educate all the children. Doesn’t matter if they are born to villagers or Gars. Every child should be educated in math, reading and writing, and history up to a particular proficiency. Colleges should be set up for learning of philosophy, higher math and sciences needed for space travel and interacting in a galactic society. All that stuff. Maybe by the time I get back and get to K’Tran, it’ll be ready.”
“Without these things, it won’t gain membership?” he asked.
“Probably not,” she yawned, and turned back over to sleep some more. “On your way out, tell the maids I’ll be up in a few more hours.”
He rolled over onto her to have her from behind once more. “Who said I was leaving?”
She had nothing more to say as the insatiable she-beast woke to take her pleasures again.
He left her sated and sleeping.
Chapter Nine
A fight over what dress to wearon stage led to pairs of girls dancing together and often being taken together to a room. Business was booming in this first week and Tyler extended the business day by two hours into the night. Some parts of the Emporium did stay open overnight, to accommodate overnight gamblers. Knowing she would eventually move the station, she did not hire people from the planet below unless they understood their workplace might move out of the solar system.
“I’ll let you know when I want to fuck you again,” she told Arran when he tried to come into her bedroom a third night in a row.
He scowled but said nothing. Scowled again when Shale came to visit for a night and he was locked out of the apartment entirely.
“You are in too good a mood after he
leaves,” Arran said when she came smiling into the strip club for her first performance.
“I was in the same good mood the day you left me in bed,” she shot back, and went to the stage.
Soon as she came back down, her secretary was in her ear telling her the President of Ryli was waiting in the office to speak with her.
“President of Ryli? Is he angry?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“I’ll be right there,” she said, and got a cold non-alcoholic punch from the bar.
Cigarette lit, into a lift on her own, she took the slow way up to Administration to meet him in her secretary’s office rather than her own. Drink and smoke in her left hand, right offered to him, she introduced herself.
“Lar Tyler,” she said. “New owner of this station.”
“Gannon Mendir, President of Ryli,” he replied, taking the hand for a firm but not crushing grip.
Well-dressed, as expected, and about fifty years old, with an underlying internal personal loneliness. Relatively recent loss of a spouse.
“I’m very sorry to hear of the loss of your wife. I understand she was a gracious woman.”
His surprise was palpable. “I didn’t know such news reached the station. Thank you.”
“I haven’t had my supper yet,” she lied. “Let’s go down to the restaurant and we can talk more comfortably. My table is set apart from others, so we won’t be overheard.”
“I think I might enjoy that. I must say I’m surprised by you, Lar Tyler. I expected another hard-bitten criminal.”
“I only bite hard if I’m asked nicely,” she flashed a smile, and led the way back to the lift.
He chuckled and followed, his two security escorts not nearly as amused. She called down to the restaurant to tell them she was on her way and to prepare the sample app and two signature steaks made her way.
Her table in the big restaurant was always waiting and the two VIP tables were empty. He gestured the escorts to wait at the bottom of the short stack of steps and held her chair for her before seating himself. Pleased to do such a mundane thing again. A sensation of having missed these very small things in his life.
“I cannot imagine this is a social call,” she opened, turning her eyes to him in a gaze so solid he could not look away from it. “You are far too busy to spend the evening in a casino resort space station.”