He didn't reply but began the song again. This time, I got all of it. "Tell me if this is right," I said, playing it back from the notes on the pad.
"Yes," he replied. "That is correct."
"Are there words to it?"
"Yes," he said. "But they are Zetithian. You wouldn't understand them."
"Would you sing it, anyway?" His reluctance was almost palpable, and I wondered if he was put out because I'd pushed him away, or because I was insisting that he do something he preferred not to do. "I could give you something to make it worthwhile, I suppose. Would you mind? Please?"
"As you wish," he said with a sigh. He seemed resigned to the idea, but when his expression changed from a show of reluctance to something more devious, I thought I'd better be careful. "But what will you give me?"
"Oh, I don't know," I muttered. "What do you want?—that I can give you, that is. I haven't got much, you know. Just some clothes, my music, and—"
Catching a glimpse of that provocative smile of his, I realized I'd fallen right into a trap, and it was perfectly obvious what he was going to say even before his lips opened to speak.
"Kiss me," he said. "I will sing every song I know if you will do that—one kiss for each of them," he added with another lip-curling smile.
Remembering the last time I'd kissed him, I had an idea that if I were to do it again, we might never get to the songs—which was possibly his intention.
"You drive a hard bargain for a slave boy," I grumbled. "You're sure you wouldn't rather have something else?"
His smile broadened. "There are many things I would like from you," he said. "But I believe they are worth more than songs."
It didn't take a space engineer to figure that one out! "Kisses will do, then," I said, capitulating before the bargain became any more complex. "Do you want payment in advance?"
Tychar looked puzzled. "In advance?"
"I mean before or after the song?" If he asked for it before, like I said, he might never have to sing a note.
"After," he replied, though the way he said it made me think that he still might be taking advantage of me somehow, but I couldn't see it.
Slightly suspicious, I ran through a short intro, and he began. His singing voice was a rich baritone, even more arresting than his speech, but the words were strange. Despite the fact that the Standard Tongue was essentially a mish-mash of words compiled from many different languages throughout the galaxy, I didn't recognize a single one in the song he sang. Obviously, Zetith had been too remote to contribute anything as the common language had developed over the past several centuries. It was small wonder that he had such an odd accent.
Improvising an accompaniment, I let him continue— apparently, there was more than one verse—and his voice seemed to grow stronger and more confident as he went on. I enjoyed listening to him. He might have been singing about anything at all, but not knowing what the words meant didn't seem to matter to me, and I felt myself becoming more drawn to him than ever. Perhaps it was a love song, and he was telling me about a lost love, a love he'd found, or the one he hoped to find. I might never know, because I was sure that a translation would have cost me more, and I already owed him a kiss...
That he was anticipating said event was quite evident, because his cock seemed to get bigger and harder as he went on with the song. When he sang the final note, more of that fluid began dripping from the ruffled corona. I watched out of the corner of my eye as it slid from him and stretched, gleaming, to the floor. My mouth went dry once again, and this time, it had nothing to do with a need for water, because I could feel exactly where all the moisture had gone; I was sitting on it.
"That was beautiful," I whispered.
"So are you," he said.
I raised my face to give him his due, but he had other ideas. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he moved closer, positioning that dripping cock mere centimeters from my lips.
"Kiss me," he said, pulling me closer.
"Why, you sneaky little—!" I exclaimed. "I knew there had to be a catch!" Not really, though, because at the time, I couldn't think of many things I'd rather do than to kiss him there—perhaps it would be sweet, just as he'd said.
Pressing my lips to his hot shaft, I found that it wasn't sweet at all, but was slightly salty, and I couldn't help it; I licked him quite thoroughly, just to be sure. If his soft sighs of pleasure meant anything, he was obviously enjoying the kiss, but his reaction was nothing compared to mine. Everything below my navel caught fire, and I was immediately wet enough to douse a flaming building. I felt him send out a little jet of fluid against my tongue and was about to suck him into my mouth when an orgasm hit me as suddenly as if I'd been shot with a pulse rifle. Letting go of him, I doubled over, gasping and groaning in an ecstasy I'd never even imagined. Honestly, the climax I'd experienced when I first saw him smile was a little blip in comparison.
I couldn't imagine how it had happened and stared up at him, quite breathless and completely bewildered by it.
"Joy," he whispered. "Unlike any you have ever known?"
"Yes," I gasped. Then I realized what must have happened. "It's a—a hormone or chemical of some kind in that fluid, isn't it?"
He nodded. "This ability was our greatest gift, but it was also our downfall," he said. "It is how we were able to entice our women, but I believe it was also the reason our race was destroyed."
"Once you go cat, you never go back," I murmured—and it was true. I'd never even been penetrated with that fancy cock of his, but I knew in the depths of my soul that no one—with the possible exception of Trag—could ever even begin to compare. I tried to imagine an entire planet full of these guys let loose on an unsuspecting galaxy, and I knew that their species would have spread, stamping out every other mammalian humanoid variety in the known universe in favor of themselves, simply because, once they'd gotten a taste, the women of any world wouldn't have wanted anyone but them. Someone had obviously decided not to let that happen...
From the perspective of those other species, my own included, it might have been for the best, but still, it was a damn shame.
Chapter 8
Five songs and as many spectacular orgasms later, I changed into a white gown with a halter top and a floor-sweeping skirt and staggered off in Tychar's wake to have dinner with Scalia, only then realizing that he couldn't have gotten much in the way of satisfaction out of the deal, because, as far as I could tell, I was the one experiencing all the fireworks. It was a sort of win-win situation for me—I'd gotten lots of music out of him, and plenty of joy, too—but I wasn't quite sure how he'd benefited, though he certainly hadn't complained!
Of course, I had an idea he was just biding his time. I knew that if I ever did anything more than just kiss him, it was going to be even better, though to be quite honest, such a thing was hard to imagine.
And the music had been so amazing! The songs were hauntingly beautiful, and Tychar not only had a good ear, but also had a voice that was guaranteed to make any woman swoon. He wasn't short on charisma, either; if he ever got on stage, he'd be a galaxy-class superstar in no time. But, of course, as a slave—and one that Scalia didn't care to advertise—that wasn't very likely.
To my dismay, when we neared the slave quarters, Tychar merely gave me directions on how to find the dining room, obviously intending to leave me to face the dragons alone.
"What? You're not coming with me?" I squeaked. "I have to face a whole room full of Darconians all by myself?"
"They will not eat you," he said with a smile and a glance at the guard who opened the door for him. "They are plant-eaters—remember?"
"But you're my attendant, aren't you?" I said desperately. "Don't you have to go wherever I go?"
"Not if there are outsiders present."
"Oh, yeah, right," I said, feeling slightly confused. All those orgasms must have had my brain in worse shape than I thought. "No one's supposed to know you're here, are they? I forgot."
&n
bsp; "Most of the time, we simply keep out of sight, but if there are offworlders visiting—or certain other outsiders—we are locked in. Scalia is not sure who our enemies were, so she keeps us hidden from all of them. She fears that we will be hunted down if we are ever seen."
"Didn't stop her from showing off her cats to the new piano teacher," I reminded him.
"Yes, but Earth is too remote to have taken part in our war," he said with a slow smile, "and you, my lovely teacher, do not appear to be a bounty hunter."
"Hey, I can be tough if I have to," I protested, squaring my shoulders and trying to stand up a little straighter— though, even barefoot, he was still the taller of the two of us by several centimeters. "If it's not too hot... and if I have a decent weapon... and maybe an army behind me. Sure, I could go out hunting bad guys. I'd be good at it, too, because no one would ever suspect me."
If the little chortle I heard as the doors closed behind him was any indication, I don't think he took me very seriously—nor did the Darconian who stood guard at the door.
Looking at me appraisingly, he remarked, "No one would suspect you of being anything but a very beautiful woman."
"Oh, what would you know?" I said witheringly.
Shoulders back and head held high, I marched on to the dining room, and the guards let me in. I was slightly surprised that they allowed me to pass without even giving them my name, but then I remembered that I was the only Terran on the whole damn planet, so even if they'd never seen me before, they would have known who I was. I kept forgetting that...
Upon entering the room, I considered it to be quite fortunate that I'd worked up a bit of courage ahead of time, because the room was positively swarming with lizards. When I entered, all sound and movement stopped as each one of them turned to stare at me.
Now, if you've never faced a large dining room full of Darconians, you may not understand just how I felt at that moment, but Scalia obviously did and broke the silence immediately.
"This is Kyra Aramis, our new music teacher," she said proudly. "She is Terran." Glancing around, she added, "From Earth."
Conversation broke out again instantly, and though most of it took the form of hushed murmurs and words I couldn't catch, I still got the distinct impression that their reception of me wasn't entirely friendly. Remembering what Tychar had said about unrest because of Scalia's progressive ways, I figured it would be best if I watched what I said.
Bowing my head slightly, I bade them all a firm "Good evening," and took an empty seat across the table from Zealon. I thought that adding something along the lines of, "It's a pleasure to meet all of you," might have been a shade on the unbelievable side given the circumstances, and since I didn't want to come across as either fawning or insincere, I left it at that. Actually, I decided that keeping my mouth shut except to put food in it might be my best course of action, but there are times when I tend to blurt out whatever I happen to be thinking, regardless of my best intentions.
As far as I could tell, there seemed to be an even mix of males and females. I was getting better at telling the difference—and the strings of beads some of them wore were a good clue—but there were a few present who could have gone either way—small males or rather large females. Then I almost shouted out loud as the light finally dawned on me, for it was color, as well as size, that distinguished the sexes. The females were green with purple, blue or mauve highlights, while the males had either yellow, orange, or red iridescent tints to their otherwise green scales. Rather pleased that I'd managed to figure that out before having to ask someone—Tychar probably would have charged me a kiss for the information—I must have been smiling to myself, because a large female a few seats to my left demanded to know what I found so amusing.
Just how she knew enough about Terrans to know that I was smiling was a mystery to me. I toyed with the idea that she might have been an anthropologist of sorts, but decided against it when I noticed how many beads and bangles she was wearing—certainly not scholarly attire on any planet! I wondered if she was the wife of one of the government officials, but decided I'd best not ask, since she might have been an official herself, especially given Scalia's statement that the men were too volatile to be in charge.
As always, honesty is the best policy. They might even get a chuckle or two out of my lack of knowledge about their kind. "I just figured out how to tell males from females," I replied. "It's the difference in color, isn't it?"
She appeared to be rather affronted by this. "There are many other differences," she said haughtily. "I would begin with the fact that males are much less attractive than females. We are much more refined than they."
Scalia laughed heartily. "Dobraton!" she said with a wave of her arm that set her own bangles to jingling. "Do not be too harsh with the girl. She had never seen a Darconian before yesterday." Glancing sideways at her daughter, she added, "Zealon was supposed to be educating her in the ways of our world, but I can see that she has omitted some rather pertinent details."
As we had mostly discussed music and Scalia's slaves, I was forced to agree; Tychar had taught me far more than Zealon had. "I suppose it's my own fault for not asking the right questions," I said equably. I chose not to mention that the heat was keeping me from being terribly energetic or sharp-witted—or conscious—long enough to devote myself to the study of Darconian biology. Dobraton would undoubtedly have seen my heat intolerance as a sign of weakness, and my instincts told me that weakness was something I should avoid showing to her at all costs—even if I was only a piano teacher!
With that in mind, I decided to make a point of drinking water, rather than wine, unless pressed to do so, since passing out at the table would be a grave tactical error. Hopefully, I wouldn't be asked to attend many of these large gatherings once the novelty of having a Terran in the palace wore off, though it did occur to me that Scalia might not tire of it. She might not be able to show off her slaves to just anyone, but I was fair game.
As the dinner progressed, I noticed that Dobraton's ideas seemed to run counter to Scalia's on most topics, especially with regard to becoming more open to offworlders. She was extremely delicate in her phrasing when it came to voicing her dissent, but the scathing glances Dobraton sent in my direction led me to believe that if she had her way, I would be among the first to be deported. I wondered what she would have thought of Scalia's slaves and decided that this was one person who Scalia definitely needed to keep in the dark! Another thing I noticed was that several of those present were merely giving lip service to Scalia and didn't seem at all unhappy with what Dobraton was saying. But perhaps the most interesting thing I noticed was that Wazak, who was seated across from Dobraton, was about to explode.
Stupid me, I decided to put my foot in it, if for no other reason than to avoid being caught in the middle of the Darconian version of a cat fight. "So, tell me," I said when there was a brief lull in the conversation. "The government here is a monarchy, isn't it? Not a democracy?"
The arrow hit its mark, and Dobraton recoiled as though I'd actually slapped her, but Scalia was the one who answered me.
"A monarchy, yes," she replied. "But with input from a variety of sources."
"A Queen and her council of advisors, then?" I concluded.
"Yes," Scalia said firmly.
"And these advisors," I said with genuine interest, "are they elected, or appointed?"
Scalia seemed absolutely delighted that I'd asked that question. "They are appointed," she said, beaming at me with frank approval.
"And can, therefore, be... removed, if their advice is unsound?"
"Why, yes," Scalia said, putting a lilt in her voice that I hadn't heard before. "Though I have seldom had to do such a thing."
I nodded and went back to making a careful selection from the platter of fruit in front of me. Wazak looked as though he'd laid a golden egg and was sitting on it at that very moment. I began to think that he actually approved of me.
; Dobraton must have decided to fall back and regroup, for she said, in a voice dripping with honey, "Try one of the yellow ones, my dear. They are my personal favorites."
Now, I'd never tasted any of the yellow fruit before, but if the look of pure venomous dislike which Dobraton shot at me just before suggesting it was any indication, she was lying through her big, flat, dinosaur teeth. However, if for no other reason than to prove that the ladies of Earth were not to be outdone by the lizards of Darconia, I picked one up and took a bite of it. As I might have suspected, it was like biting into a lemon—a really old, really sour, really bitter lemon.
"They're a bit sour, aren't they?" I remarked casually, doing my utmost to keep my mouth from going into a permanent pucker. "I must say, I believe I prefer the sweeter ones, myself. After all, you are what you eat." Dropping the sour lemon thingy on my plate, I chose another kind, adding, "That's an old Earth saying, by the way." I took a nibble of a purplish plum and added, "Don't know how true it is, but I believe I'd rather be sweet than sour."
Cat Star 03 - Rogue Page 11