by George Olney
Fair enough, she decided. She had what tribal folks would call Cause from Vandemos's insults and what the Arm would call a good reason to investigate the girl. She was going to clobber him anyway, but now it was legal. The slug was dead meat.
Meanwhile, Vandemos was almost frothing at the mouth. "You think you can parade yourself in front of me, you whore?" he screamed, totally unaware that the Custom of the Lycanthi Tribes said his language was enough to get him seriously killed. "I'll make you wish you'd never been born!"
Frenchy blew him another kiss.
That did it. Vandemos shoved his left hand bodyguard forward. "Take her Kemos!"
Several things happened with extreme speed. Kemos, either through loyalty or lack of sense, tried to "take her". Kemos's partner, suddenly waking up to the fact that the big blonde had a guy somewhere in the immediate vicinity, drew his bolt gun and spun to face Grae, only to find Grae's perfectly thrown combat knife embedded to the hilt in the base of his throat. Meanwhile, Kemos reached for Frenchy, who was already in "Mrs. Peel" mode. She grabbed the hand and jerked it past her, punching him under the shoulder to dislocate the arm. Then her other hand swung up in a punch with the heel of her palm that effectively ended his active interest in things, along with any trace of consciousness.
A snarling Frenchy, having disposed of Kemos, was advancing on Vandemos with murderous intent. A sharp "NO!" stopped her.
Grae stepped between her and Vandemos and the look he gave the man was emotionless and rock hard. "You insulted my wife, slime. That's Cause."
Vandemos paled and shrank on himself. If Frenchy's smiles promised Paradise, Grae's hard look pointed in entirely another direction.
Both of Grae's hands swept up, the heel of the left shattering Vandemos's jaw. The heel of the other smashed his cheekbone. He collapsed like a bag of suet.
Frenchy grabbed Grae's arm and swung him to face her. "What in hell did you do that for!? I wanted that bag of crap myself!"
Grae leaned over and spoke softly, "Which is just what you can't do, mistress. Defeat him and you automatically gain his property, including Bound women, under Custom. Remember what happened last time you ended up with a tribal girl bound to you?"
She looked at him in shock as his words sank in, and he smiled. "I seem to recall a few problems," he concluded.
Problems? Problems! That boy had a talent for understatement, she thought.
Back when she and Grae were still sorting things out between them on Lycanth, she'd ended up with Maev bound to her. It was Grae's doing, not her will, and his way of clearing the decks so he could go off on a suicide mission he felt honored to perform. Everything stemmed from the fact that Lycanthi Custom said that a woman summarily unbound without what she considered an honorable reason was dishonored. The reaction to dishonor was suicide, a little booby trap Frenchy hit when she automatically tried to free Maev, only to discover that death or continued bondage were the only options the girl would accept.
Stuck with the wench, Frenchy found herself in the midst of a continuing series of misapprehensions, arguments, confusion, and constant difficulties in finding a way to get the girl honorably unbound. Adding to the fun was that bondage was essentially a sexual relationship, and she, herself, was firmly heterosexual. Frenchy shuddered at the thought of going back through that near farce again.
That's when she realized Grae was right. One of those two girls was tribal and tribal women were as bullheaded stubborn about Custom as their men. If Custom said they were bound to someone, then they were, come hell or high water, as long as their possessor didn't give Cause and prompt them to go to killing. That was also why the girl was with Vandemos, even if she hated him. Custom said there was no immediate reason for her to be honorably unbound. Custom also said the person that defeated Vandemos in a fair fight took possession of said tribal female, i.e. Grae. With the goofy tribal psychology, the girl was now sure she was bound to Grae, at least until she was honorably unbound.
Crap.
At least the other one should be easy to deal with. Tell her she's free and send her back to wherever home happened to be hanging in the sky. Meanwhile... crap, again. At least the right sexes were involved this time, but that tribal girl was about to learn a few new rules.
Frenchy sighed. This was supposed to be a really special night, damn it! "Grae," she said in a resigned tone of voice, "please go settle up the bill then let's gather this pair up and get the hell back home. We can sort things out back there."
There was a momentary interruption as the Enforcer team made its appearance and was given Vandemos and the remains of his goons to trundle off to where the Enforcement Arm kept its trash. During the proceedings, Frenchy eyed the two girls with an irritated air. The unknown appeared faintly puzzled, if glad to be rid of Vandemos. The tribal girl was the picture of sophisticated calm, apparently waiting until all the confusion was settled and she could be properly escorted back to the lifestyle she felt she was owed. Probably assessing her new possessor for a variety of sexual skills, given the way the Tribes regarded her new relationship with Grae. Calmly planning to find out what they were at the earliest opportunity, too.
Well, a prior claim had been staked, and it was high time Miss Jet-Set, here, found it out. She walked over to the two girls and said pleasantly, "Ladies, obviously, things have changed."
Frenchy looked at the girl from Somewhere. "You're free, dear, and we're going to get you home, wherever it is."
Looking at the tribal girl, Frenchy deliberately swept her long blonde hair back to reveal the ear posts of a Valued Woman. She was rewarded by widening eyes and a slightly shocked expression. "As for you, Sweetcakes, you can see we both have Lycanth in common. And, guess what? I outrank you. We'll get you home, too, and honorably unbound, but there's one little thing you better understand right now. That big guy over there in the fancy uniform already has a woman in his life... and one is all he needs. Baby be good and Mama happy. Baby tries to play games with big guy in fancy uniform and Mama spank."
She leaned over and got nose to nose with the now thoroughly shaken tribal girl, all of whose sophisticated poise had vanished. "Understand?" Frenchy purred.
The girl nodded nervously and Frenchy turned away, satisfied. "Grae," she called, "Can we please get the hell out of here?"
Chapter 2
The girls' names were Justa of the Painted Earth Tribe and Tanageoa. To be more precise, the short unknown girl's full name was Tanageoa ep Lalaleona Ma Oloeonalani. "Fuzzy, for short," Justa commented sardonically.
Frenchy gaped at Justa. If the girl was kidding, it was totally unlike tribal humor in general and what appeared to be Justa's humor in specific. "Fuzzy?"
"Fuzzy."
Frenchy shook herself slightly. All right. So... what the HELL???
Frenchy was trying to interview the two girls in the living room of the large ranch style house she and Grae had in the hills outside of Seelah. She was still in her evening dress and they were still in their skin and she was trying to get a few things straight prior to bundling them off to bed.
First question. What are your names?
First screwball answer.
"Fuzzy?"
"Fuzzy."
Tanageoa etc. popped up with the answer. "Oh, it's what my name mean."
Frenchy looked at her. "Your name means Fuzzy?"
Fuzzy answered. "Yes. My name mean Little Creature that Cuddles in Arms and Makes Soft Noises to Make Holder Feel Warm and Fuzzy. Daddy give me my name. He think it beautiful. Justa and everybody else I talk to say my name is Fuzzy in Rembaud, cause it easier. I don't know. It easier in Rembaud if you just say Fuzzy? You tell me. I don't think so, but you say, since I live here with you in big house now. You say you take me home. When we going? I want to see Daddy again. I bet he's mad men take me ..."
"FUZZY!" Frenchy's scream stopped the flow of words. The girl shut her mouth and looked at her with big wide eyes.
Justa looked at Frenchy with a long suffering expressi
on. "And don't get her started."
Frenchy cocked an eye at the tribal girl. "How long has this been going on?"
Justa answered, "She was on the slave ship with me. Vandemos culled us out of the cargo together. After the first twenty seconds listening to her, he gave standing orders nobody was to ask her a question in his presence."
Frenchy nodded. At least Vandemos had some degree of common sense. "You said he culled you two out of the cargo together. Was it just the two of you? What about other girls?"
Justa's expression got dark. "Just us. There are always two from the latest cargo. When he picks them out, the previous pair he chose are sold. That's it."
Frenchy was outraged. "Getting rid of old goods."
For a moment, Justa looked vulnerable. "What could we do? There was no Cause. If there was, I'd of killed him."
Frenchy calmed down. There it was again. Custom. Bondage rules were fine, if both parties played by them. She was prepared to be tolerant of the bondage custom - barely - because it was an integral part of tribal sexual relationships and the Tribes were her people, now. But when somebody bent the rules or didn't play by them, the girls had no defense. Custom didn't allow it. Maybe not Custom, but, by God, she was going to do something about it.
"Don't worry, Justa," she said softly, "it's over now and Grae and I will set things to right. Vandemos can't get you, or any other girl, ever again, if I know the Arm."
Justa was still defensive. "There are still others like him."
"And I'm going to see about that."
Justa studied Frenchy carefully for a moment. "I believe you will."
Frenchy got back to the business at hand. Briskly, she stood up and made shooing motions at the girls. "Okay, enough of this slavery crap. Let's get you two settled."
She eyed Fuzzy for a moment. The little honey blonde was the body type that seemed to be nothing but bouncy, very rounded curves. Any wife with half a brain would have this little mantrap covered up in a hurry and Frenchy had considerably more than half a brain. "You need clothes, girl. None of my stuff will fit you, but we ought to be able to improvise until I can get you downtown tomorrow."
She didn't make the same offer to Justa. She knew the girl would refuse clothing as long as she was bound to Grae. Damn ironbound tribal attitudes, anyhow.
Fuzzy brightened. "Oh, don't worry. I fix. My clothes at home easy to fix. I do it up good, here. We like plenty of colors and you sure to have something I can fix for clothes. You wait. There goin' to be somethin' I can use. I..."
"FUZZY!"
The next curve ball came a few moments later as Frenchy was showing them to one of the spare bedrooms. Justa pulled Frenchy aside and whispered in her ear, "Can we have separate rooms, or at least one with two beds?"
Frenchy couldn't think of a thing to say, and just looked at her with surprise. Justa grimaced and said, "She's a left-hander."
Frenchy was puzzled, but decided to honor Justa's wishes until she could talk to Grae. It wasn't as though they were going to run out of space. The house was Arm temporary quarters and the result of some sort of confiscation process in the past. Really way too big for the two of them, but plenty of bedrooms. "Sure."
In a louder voice, she said, "Fuzzy, you take this one. Justa, you're right next door. Anything in the room is yours to use."
She found Grae in their own bedroom, completely naked, and lying on the bed, propped up on the headboard and using a book-reader, the picture of total relaxation. Sensibly, Grae had decided the management of extraneous females in the household was Frenchy's department and kept totally out of sight.
As she undressed for bed, she commented, "I've got those two settled in. It's a good thing there's no classes tomorrow. I want to try and get any loose ends tied down since it looks like they're going to be with us for a while.
"Grae?" He looked up from his reader. "Justa said something I didn't understand. She didn't wasn't to share a room with the other girl because she was a left-hander. What's that mean?"
Grae snorted a brief laugh. "Justa means Fuzzy's sexually interested in women. Left-hander is tribal slang for homosexual. Not completely true, though."
He stretched and put the reader down to enjoy the process of Frenchy undressing. "I recognize the girl. She's from Watanaoea, about ten light years from here. The Galactic name is Setton's World. They're a lot like the Polynesians you had on Earth. Pretty flexible in their sexual choices, too. I imagine she made a pass at Justa at some point and got the girl's back up. Nothing to get excited about."
Frenchy thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. Nothing unusual, especially for an ex-stripper like her. Plenty of strippers were into the girl-girl thing. Not to her taste, though.
Guys were her thing, she thought happily.
Nude, she playfully flopped down next to Grae, welcoming the arm he slid around her shoulders. "Hey big guy, even if we didn't get to see much night life, I was planning to end the evening by getting laid. Still any chance of that happening?"
His kiss was the answer she wanted.
The next morning, Frenchy had an unusual problem. At least it was an unusual problem for her. She couldn't figure out what to wear. The Galactic form of female dress was very like an Indian sari, although both sexes wore tunic and hose with robes. It was like women in pants suits at home, she thought. What a girl wore depended on the situation and her feelings. In fact most of the women in class wore tunic and hose when they weren't in native dress. She tried Galactic style once or twice, but didn't like it. Grae never wore it either. Tribal dress was next, a leather leotard, complete with miso, but that didn't feel right, either. Leathers were good for Lycanth's open wastelands, but not civilization. Finally, she found a holo in a guide book of XB734, otherwise known as Earth, and had a manufactory in one of the clothing stores make her up some jeans and T-shirts. With tongue firmly in cheek, she told her classmates it was her native dress and left it at that.
Now, she felt she was back with the same problem, again. How she dressed would form Justa and Fuzzy's impressions of her, and she wanted it to be just right. Galactic dress was out. She didn't like it. Reluctantly, she decided against jeans and T-shirt, too. Even if the girls didn't know her outfit was casual, she would know it. Finally, she got out her tribal leathers. Instead of her miso's headband, though, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She wanted Justa to see the earposts that proclaimed her Valued Woman status. Remind that young lady just who was boss here.
She cocked her head for a moment and listened quietly to her thoughts. She felt Yelen, amused at Frenchy's dilemma, but supportive of her decision regarding Justa. That young lady needed to be kept firmly in hand.
Finished dressing, she glanced back at the bed. Grae was still asleep. For a Master Warrior, that boy was as lazy as an old cat if there wasn't something important to do. As far as he was concerned, the girls were her problem and he was staying out of it. After a moment's thought, she decided she agreed with the big lug's decision. The last thing she needed was him hanging around while she was trying to control those two bundles of sex. She was perfectly capable of handling them herself, thank you.
Dressing done, Frenchy went out to gather the children.
Frenchy was hit with another of Fuzzy's curve balls as soon as the two girls walked in to join her in the living room. Justa was the usual Tribal picture of nonchalant nudity. Fuzzy, on the other hand, was now dressed, or not dressed, in what she proclaimed her native costume.
The girl was as bare as she was last night, with several minor - very minor - exceptions. She wore a scarf - a small scarf - like a sarong, just like girls on Earth wore with their bikinis. The difference was this particular sarong hid exactly nothing. It was tied over her left hip and most of the cloth rode on her right one. Absolutely nothing was hidden in front and just a tiny bit of her right butt cheek was covered in the back. She had an artificial flower made of some silk-like material in her hair, just over her left ear.
From Fuzzy's catara
ct of words, Frenchy managed to extract the fact that there ought to be something like a Hawaiian lei to go with what she was wearing, but the girl couldn't find enough silk flowers in the house to make one.
"At home, I make flower necklace out of real flowers, but here only fake flowers, but they still nice. I like way fake flowers look. You like, too? They pretty and not fade like real flowers at home and..."
"FUZZY!"
Justa was just sitting on the couch, looking mildly put upon. There was no sense in her trying to say anything as long as Fuzzy's mouth was open. When Frenchy finally reigned in Fuzzy's galloping monologue, she got a chance to comment. "Frenchy, she's right."
Frenchy snorted and looked at Justa. "She is, huh? And how do you know that?"
Justa looked back at her, as self-poised as ever. "Before I was bound, I was a graduate student in anthropology. I did my field work on Setton's World."
For an instant, Frenchy was dumbfounded. Then she recovered. Of all people, she knew the Tribes were far more culturally and scientifically advanced than they chose to let the rest of the Galaxy notice. Grae was a trained archeologist, for Heaven's sake! What Justa claimed about herself was really nothing unusual.