“I hear you lookin’ for someone.” Mets fidgeted.
“Always looking, honey. So, are you wasting my time or you got something to tell me?”
“I got something.” Mets nodded rapidly. “What you got?”
Raniko pulled a wad of currency from her pocket. “These what you’re after?”
“Hand it over, bounty hunter.”
“Not yet, wise guy. Information first, remember?”
Mets looked around suspiciously. “I got a wraith. I think they know where your guy is.”
“Really?” Raniko rarely dealt with cosmic wraiths. They freaked her out; there one minute, gone the next, unsure of what the beings actually were, without a face or even a proper shape. Even so, any information they had given her in the past had proved solid and she was desperate for a lead.
“It’s inside me. Right now.”
“Inside you? That’s different.”
“Yeah, yeah, it needed to hide for a while, lay low, so I offered it my services.”
“Not for free, I presume?”
“Give me a break, Raniko. I gotta make a livin’.”
“Alright,” she conceded, since Mets was becoming more skittish by the minute. “I’ve got the cash. Come on then, out with it.”
“Not here. It won’t come out in daylight.”
“Then where and when, honey? I’ve not got all day. Come on.”
Mets guided Raniko down a small, cobbled, rank alley into a single car parking bay, empty at the time. After checking carefully that they were alone, he opened his mouth. Slowly curling from the dark recesses by his tongue, a blue smoke unfurled. Mets tapped his small foot, impatient to be rid of his visitor, but the cosmic wraith coiled out little by little, full of concern. It rose in front of Raniko’s face, shifting shape all the time, like the smoke laden atmosphere of a crummy public house. Even without a face, without eyes or nose or mouth, Raniko knew it was watching her. Entranced by the depth of the colour blue in such a small presence, Raniko jumped as it seemed to stretch out a vulnerable hand to check her aura.
Raniko acted slowly so as not to spook the shadow, and smiled at it calmly. The blue smoke became even brighter, blowing and undulating like an ocean wave. Lazily, dreamily, the wraith ushered close to Raniko’s ear. Soon she smiled and knew that the information was good.
Chapter Eleven
Marriage Guidance
Since Devon had broken the initiation ceremony, Talia had not stopped crying. She was not sure why. She did not love him. Perhaps she liked him a little for his angelic looks, but that was all. She was totally unclear as to why her hot tears would not stop rolling out and staining her cheeks.
Queen Uno was using each salted droplet to fuel her fire of hatred, which blazed to the point of dire indigestion. What Talia did not realise, or was not ready to recognise, was the fact that her mother had never been so attentive towards her as in this moment. Uno had fluffed pillows, fetched water, fussed and mithered, and that was why Talia’s lake of tears would not stop filling.
“Our time is at hand,” the black queen would promise in the folds of the pretty pink princess bedroom. “He will be found and I will punish him. I spoke to a very interesting man who runs a bounty hunting operation. Very primal, I know, but desperate times do call for such measures.”
“I don’t want him back!” Talia would sob. “I hate him!”
“Of course,” Uno soothed with her sandpaper like voice. “That is often the way of things. I couldn’t stand your father at first.”
“Really?” Talia was unnerved by this most unexpected news.
“Of course. Marriage is a funny thing. Don’t even try to understand it. I never could. Thinking about it only causes pain. I find a much better way of dealing with those emotions is to channel it into something different. Something like finding your enemies. There’s always some problem or other to deal with, my precious. Let me show you effective ways of solving such problems. I’ll be your guide in such a nasty world.”
Chapter Twelve
Travelling In Style
Raniko’s choice of space travel was, like the rest of her fine lifestyle, elegant and glamorous. Even from the outside, The Opulence was obviously something special. Oval in shape, except above the cockpit, where the metal was moulded into the head of a jaguar. Most spacecraft tended to be white or bare metal. The Opulence was golden. Not pure gold. If she had remained modelling, it would certainly have been, but not now. Now she had to make sacrifices.
Inside the ship, its interior resembled a hotel penthouse. Entering through the side door, there was a large living area, the round room skirted with suede sofas, soft sheepskin rugs, a wide screen television, full surround sound and tropical fish tanks, all in a colour scheme of coffee, cream and amber, studded occasionally with diamante. Off this leisure space, were two bedrooms, slim but gloriously furnished with bronze satin bedspreads and golden sequinned scatter cushions, the master bedroom having a large dressing table. The bathroom had a Jacuzzi bath, of course, and even the prisoner’s quarters had a beautiful bedspread, only single, and a leopard print rug.
Up front, the cockpit ran the same colour scheme, each chair in velvety cream suede, piped with orange cotton and embroidered diamante leopards prowled each back rest. Hudson Brody had laughed to the point of urination when Raniko made her purchase and first glided into his docking bay, so proud of her baby, for which rudeness she had stamped upon his foot. Raniko had travelled miles to an auction for The Opulence, owned previously by a super model with a penchant for big cats, which suited Raniko just fine. Even though the docking bay droids had their work cut out keeping the fish fed and the golden taps shining, she still considered her purchase a bargain.
She slid the jewel encrusted handle into forward gear, escaping in The Opulence towards the Jendo system, setting a course for Kirslar and in particular a resort named Botanica.
Chapter Thirteen
Employee Of The Week
Moving to Botanica had definitely been one of Devon’s better choices. His apartment on the ground floor was a basic room but, by his standards, was on a par with the palace dojo. Within several days, he had a bank of clients queuing for his services. Rich women mostly, on long holidays for perhaps a few months while the cold periods on their own planets passed by.Odd times, he would get a male tennis player or swimmer visiting for a sports massage but there was another masseuse who specialised in sporting injuries so Devon tended to take her overspill. Devon did not realise that his working day today was to be a special one.
His first client with a ten o’clock appointment was Marlie Nero, a mid-thirties Martian female on holiday with her friends in celebration of her divorce. Her pale green skin almost camouflaged her in the massage suite but her furious dark eyes and shoulder length dark plaits made her stand out. She was pretty, apart from her permanent frown, and although only four and a half feet tall had a dynamic aura which made Devon step back anxiously when she strode in naked and threw herself onto the massage bed.
“Is there anything in particular you would like me to concentrate on today, madam?”
“Just something general. All my tension disappeared as soon as I signed the divorce papers,” Marlie laughed, the sound muffled by the couch.
“Any allergies?”
“Only my husband.”
Devon smiled and began to warm up the almond oil in his palms. For aromatherapy for this client, he decided upon oil of freshly peeled lemons and a spray of oxygenised spring water. Marlie had come away for escapism and it was his job to ensure she got the full experience. He enjoyed this new job. People respected him, liked him even, and the rush of independence was overwhelming. As such, his hands sparkled today, and Marlie let out an unconscious sigh as he began to knead the bottom of her back into submission. Devon spent a lot of time running two fingers either side of her spine, a technique he had learned back home to add zest to the day.
By the time he stood at the top of the bed and began to work the i
nner shoulder, Marlie was fizzing. Marlie suddenly groped into Devon’s sarong, searching for his shlong. Devon jumped a little but was so relaxed himself and inspired by the fresh oils, that he allowed her to continue. In the semi-light, both of them warm and cosy, Devon’s erection began to grow and soon Marlie lifted her head, parted his skirt and traced his glans with her hot, wet tongue. For a vengeful woman, she was surprisingly gentle, and raised his blood pressure to aching point. Marlie suddenly snatched at him and swallowed him whole. As she furiously sucked, the massage bed began to move, digging into the floor with a screech every time. However, Marlie wanted more. She stopped abruptly and glared at Devon.
“I haven’t come all this way just to give you a blow job,” she griped. “I haven’t slept with a man since I caught my husband shagging our next door neighbour in the greenhouse. Get up on this table and show me what it’s all about.”
Fortunately Devon had been groomed as a people pleaser. Although recently he had taken his life back into his own hands, which most decidedly displeased some very important people, he figured he could spare the time to please Marlie. It wasn’t such a bad job after all. At least he could say ‘no’ now if he wanted to, and he chose to say ‘yes’ this time.
Mounting the table with Marlie still spread-eagled face down upon it, Devon unwrapped his sarong and filled her with something she had already caused to be very hard. All the oil on her body and his hands allowed him to slip his hand underneath her and give her clitoral stimulation.
“I knew it could be like this!” Marlie yelled and slapped the side of the leather bed. “Yes! Yes!” Devon knew that he had satisfied another customer and hoped that she would tip well.
Chapter Fourteen
Pleasing The Queen
In Irella, the palace stood firm high above the villages; imposing in its grandiose stature, with its gargantuan gardens and even bigger gates to keep out the subjects. Inside the walls, Uno was about to receive a visit from her other, elder daughter, Lancar, and her husband’s arousal had come at a bad time.
Her husband, Junart, had been feeling quite sorry for the queen since Devon had disappeared. She was so distracted, not sleeping, and was even more thorny than usual. He had imagined that her increased dismissal of his presence would be welcome but after a while it had worn thin. Even though he had been out of bipene training for more than a little while, his inbred desire to please his queen was still there, buried deep inside, quintessential to his behaviour.
Whilst Uno showered, Junart rolled back the deep purple, velvet eiderdown, revealing black silk sheets underneath, and spread a single red drista, a rose-like stem found only on their planet, upon her pillow. He undressed, laid his clothes tidily on the chair as she decreed, and ran his fingers through the tight grey curls of his hair and chest. When Uno appeared, he lay prone, with a half-tight erection, like one of the Greek statues in their garden. She passed him by without a word, her sheer cerise gown flowing loosely.
“My Queen, how may I please you?”
“For goodness sake, I’ve only just showered. Your timing has not improved over the years, Junart.”
“Uno, please,” he cooed in his softest voice, “I still live to please you.”
As she clipped on a pair of large onyx earrings, Uno caught a glimpse of him in the dressing mirror and tutted, “Get your clothes on.”
“You’re not happy. It is my job to please you. Lancart won’t be here for a long time yet. Wouldn’t it feel better to take me in hand?”
Uno noticed that his body, even for an ageing man, remained taut. He still had his six pack and a nipped in waist.
“I’ve got some p-wraps.”
Uno could barely resist and he knew it. She licked her lips, immune to their personal poison. Junart was toying with something which had been banned from their planet for its potency and disruptive influence. Rumour existed that once upon a time a bipene put a p-wrap on both his members which caused him to go insane. Juice from the atchir fruit, when compressed into a soya based gelatine is made into a p-wrap, now sold only on the black market. Before sex, the wrap is put onto the penis which melts and moulds, releasing the atchir juices, causing delicious warm tingles and an intoxicating scent which stimulates all the sexual senses, making orgasms last longer and become much stronger. In their youth, they had often toyed with p-wraps and, just seeing it there, purple in his hands, made Uno feel younger.
Interested for once, she went to him on the bed, took the wrap and wound it around his waiting penis like malleable plastercine. As it warmed to his skin, they both felt the tingles and the release of the mouth watering aroma. As though drugged, their eyelids became heavy and their breathing deepened. Junart kissed his queen gently upon her cheeks and neck until she recoiled into the soft mound of folded eiderdown, her thin legs wide apart, allowing Junart to slip inside without any of the usual rule giving.
Uno rose to meet him, feeling closer to him than she had done for some time, wanting that deep heat inside her, feeling the atchir juice tingle inside her, running and flowing with the throbbing of his penis.
Junart spent the entire time making Uno feel special. He moved slowly and ground against her gently at first, knowing when she was ready for more. Uno actually began to sweat this time and wrapped her legs tightly around him. Only when Junart felt his queen orgasm did he dare release himself. For a moment, they lay together and he thought, though he was not sure, that she was smiling.
Chapter Fifteen
Brandana’s Battle
Taking the battle directly to the Ratt Pirates, Hans and Brandana had been spending some miserable, dangerous times deep in the hot, stony heart of war torn Populus, capital city of Jendo. Even early in the mornings, the planet was hot, the stone soaking up the solar rays and baking the streets and buildings.
There were plenty of seedy bars in Populus and in one of these, they had gleaned some juicy information. A group of high ranking Ratt Pirates were to meet, early that day, in the old command post. If what they heard was true, the Ratt Pirates were planning to reinstate their capitol building to firm up their hold on Populus, getting ready to create a new prime location for all their seedy businesses.
Urban myths had already been spreading across the universe about the Ratt Pirates plans for Populus. Hans, Brandana and other rebelling pirates, were not about to let anything happen without a fight. Wherever the Ratt Pirates dwelt, wherever they ate or slept, wherever they planned to create a stronghold, the rebels would be there, in particular such a place dear to their family line.
Hans, the eldest, had a father who was from Populus. In fact, Hans was one of the only surviving persons known of with pure Populus blood. He remembered his early life there. Not perfect, but with less Ratt Pirates, and with his father still alive, even though he had left while Hans was a toddler to fight the Ratt Pirates and had never returned.
On board Hans’ ship, he and his sister had perfected the art of bomb making. Running in such dubious circles as they did, mixing with freedom fighters and mercenaries, they had learned a few questionable things. Keeping such company was the reason their mother had packed Brandana off to Irella. Seeing her beautiful daughter turning into an angry tomboy had not pleased her, so she exiled her before she became any worse. Those natural rebellious feelings, alongside the strong undercurrent of righteousness against the Ratt Pirates who had defiled their beautiful planet, never left her. Not even the finery and sophisticated polish of the Irellan palace could scour those emotions from her fierce heart.
Early one morning, hovering unseen above Populus, they put the final touches to their bomb. There was going to be a huge explosion. Brandana soldered fine wires together, a job more fitting for her delicate digits, while Hans assembled the detonator casing as they continued the argument they had been having for days.
“I’m coming with you,” Hans said.
“No way.”
“I am.”
“No way.”
“You think you’re so good. You
’re out of practice, remember, palace girl?”
“I managed to escape on my own, didn’t I, with a hostage?”
“Yeah, well, you knew that place inside out. You don’t know Populus anymore. Nobody really knows it, it changes every day, falling down and being destroyed one way or another,” Hans flicked his braids from obscuring his view.
“But if you do come with me, how do we both escape?”
“We run and hide of course, dummy.”
“And if we fall?”
“We get up.”
“You know I can’t run as fast as you,” Brandana stated.
“You can run fast enough. You’ve outrun Ratt Pirates before, what’s up with you?”
“I just think my plan’s better,” she added. “If you stay on board, you can whisk me up when it’s done. Foolproof, practically. I don’t want to keep running forever. Besides, we’ve hardly got any friends left there now. Who’s going to put us up? They’re more likely to turn us in.”
Hans turned the last screw. “Fine. Man, when you weren’t here, at least I could make up my own mind .”
“If I’m such a drag, just drop me off now. I’ll do it alone.”
Hans looked at his watch and sighed with frustration. He didn’t want her to go, but he wasn’t about to tell her so. “It’s time. I’ll drop you off.”
Brandana kissed him on the cheek. “You know it makes sense.”
Hans grumbled something inaudible. “You know where to go?”
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