by Sabrina Kade
“Is there a problem, whores?”
“We’re not—” Phoebe starts before I dive at her and cover her mouth. She struggles against my grip, but I have plenty of experience on how to keep a girl quiet.
Arizona shows her approval before turning towards the intercom where the rough voice is rumbling from. “No problem. Just so excited.”
Shallow breaths fill the intercom, followed by a few gurgling chuckles. “We’ll be arriving shortly. Prepare yourselves. The weather calls for rain.”
There’s silence as the line clicks off, and Phoebe breaks free from my grasp.
“What are you doing, bitch?” she squeaks.
“Saving your ass,” I shoot back, kicking her away. “Do you want them to come in here? Because I sure don’t. We’ve got bigger problems. We’re almost there. They said it’s raining. Maybe it’s a planet like home.”
“Lots of water would be nice,” Alaska says dreamily.
“Let me know how it looks when you’re lying on your back,” York says. “Let’s all think about this, ladies. These pervs must have paid a pretty penny for us, thanks to the info from Lyla over there.”
“Layla.”
“Whatever,” she says, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, we’re about to land on a planet filled with, what sounds like, rich, horny aliens who want mixed babies. Margaret Atwood couldn’t make this shit up. Oh wait,” she finally smiles, “yes, she could.”
“I don’t know about you guys, but however long this is, or what we’re supposed to do, we should deal with it,” a girl mutters, resting a hand on Phoebe’s still shaking shoulders. Mia, I think. “It’s just another assignment.”
“Spread your legs, not your lips,” I grumble.
“Because aliens don’t like their dicks sucked,” Kansas finally speaks up, laughing and elbowing Arizona.
“Shut up,” Arizona mutters.
“Do as the client says,” Mia continues, dark eyes scanning across the sterile space. “Don’t piss off the client, only piss on them if that’s what they request.” Her deadpan voice brings a small smile to my face, but I don’t interrupt her because, while I know the mantra of an entertainer, it’s obvious not everyone here does. Or if they do, they’re not taking it seriously. Not yet. But they will.
Only takes a few cruel clients for a human whore to learn their place in the galaxy.
My spine stiffens, and I glance around the room with a different set of eyes. I don’t know a lot of these girls. Maybe a bunch are newbies, and yet, here we all are, together and possibly going to be carriers for another race. If we can’t trust each other, who can we trust? If we didn’t know each other, who could we turn to when things got tough? We’re twenty women of all shapes, sizes, races, and ethnicity, but one fact tied us all together. We needed money. We would do anything to get it.
We all had to find a way to get along because maybe the next time a fight broke out, we wouldn’t be able to stop it. My eyes drift to the newbies like Phoebe and others I haven’t met.
“We have to find a way to get along,” I say, rising to my feet at last.
A silence falls over the enclosed space.
“We’re going to land in an hour, and I don’t even know most of your names.”
“Why do we need to learn each other’s names?” Arizona asks, frowning.
“We’re all in this together. Think about it. We’re going to a planet where we have no idea what to expect other than some information about the weather. It’s rainy. It could be hot. It could be cold. We could be with kind aliens, or not so kind.”
“Drakens,” Sloane whispers.
“We don’t know,” I say, “but the point is that we’re all going to be there together. Shouldn’t we at least know each other’s names?”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
I snap my head around to find the owner of the voice. Narrowed black eyes glare back at me, but they’re glassy too. Her hair matches her eyes, pulled up into a tight braid. She’s pretty and looks to be Native American. High cheekbones appear as she sucks her lower lip as though trying to build the courage to speak again now that I’m focused on her. I search over her face several times, trying to place her, but nothing comes. I grow angry.
“Do I know you?” I ask.
“No. I guess you wouldn’t.” She slowly rises to her feet, and though she’s young looking, she’s also tall. I lift my chin as she ambles closer. “I’ve been on assignments with you. I know who you are, but you never seemed interested in getting to know anyone. Do you have the slightest idea who I am?”
I swallow as everyone’s eyes drift over. I’m under the spotlight now. “No.”
“My name’s Celeste Cameron,” she says thickly, as though it pains her to speak. “And I was with you on the Kyet mission. Do you remember me now?” As though to explain herself, she lifts up her thick braid and pulls it tightly, making herself wince.
My eyes widen. The braid. Of course. I swallow again. “Celeste. Y-yes. I do remember you. Sorry.”
“Spare me.” She releases her braid and takes a step back. “You watched and laughed and charmed other clients while I hung there by my hair. You watched. You never asked if I was okay and you never bothered to know me. And now suddenly, you expect everyone to run and listen to your words because you’re finally afraid?” A cruel smile flickers across her stunning features. “I hope you’re afraid. Now maybe you’ll know what I felt like for the months I was in Kyet. For months I was nothing but a toy.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, meaning it. My face grows hot. “Okay? I’m so sorry. You’re right. I didn’t want to know who you were. I didn’t want to know who most of you are.” I wave my arms around the room. “But I want to know now. I have to know. If we’re going to be carriers, we’ll need other for support. I’ve seen girls get pregnant and it’s not always the same as we’ve seen growing up. We’ll need each other.” I grab Celeste’s thin arm, pulling her back to me. “I’ll need you guys too, okay?”
Celeste’s black eyes dart back and forth. Her arm tenses under my grip, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she frowns and wilts like a dying flower. How often did a grip like mine turn into something much rougher? I release her slowly, and her posture relaxes. My lips curl up tentatively.
“I’m Blythe,” I say softly, introducing myself no matter how silly I sound. “I’m twenty-four. I loved Swedish Fish and dollar store lavender face masks before I became a human whore.” Celeste looks unsure, and I worry I’ve already lost her. Maybe my apologies came too late.
“I’m Ellis Roth,” a voice chirps. I look past Celeste’s shoulder to find the mixed race girl with thick thighs and gorgeous curly hair standing up. “I’m twenty-five. I loved horror movies and young adult books before I signed up for this.”
“Layla Sullivan,” says the baby-faced one. “I’m nineteen, but I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen.” Her near black eyes dart around as though expecting judgment, but none comes. “I lied about my age to get the money. I loved my little brother before I signed up for this. He’s the reason I’m here.”
Phoebe stands, trying to put on her bravest grin as Arizona and her crew eye her skeptically. “Phoebe Harvard. Eighteen years old, and I’m still excited to be here. People are good at the end of the day. All people. And this is a hell of a lot better than rotting away in Idaho.” She sits again. “I like books that aren’t too hard to read.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, genuinely curious for an explanation.
“Sometimes words jump on the pages for me.”
“You probably have Dyslexia,” York offers, softening slightly.
Phoebe pouts. “People always say it’s because I’m stupid.”
No one bothers to correct her, but York finally decides to stand up. Getting her on my side is something to get excited about. She’s smart. Fucking brilliant and, with her, I’m less worried about Arizona and her friends.
“York Albright. Twenty-one. I loved docume
ntaries and cheap red wine.”
“You still do, I bet,” I say.
“When my owners allow me to drink, I do not take what is offered.” York takes a seat as some of the girls remain focused on her. She’s embarrassed by the attention. “Someone else say something.”
I glance towards Arizona, Alaska, Dakota, and Kansas. “Any of you want to say something?”
Arizona purses her lips. “Like what? Kumbaya or some shit? Should we all hold hands and sing? Say a prayer? Say everything happens for a reason? Or maybe we should smack each other on the asses with wooden paddles and say we’re sorority sisters for life? This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. We’re not here to become friends.”
“That’d mean a lot more if you didn’t always have your posse,” York points out.
Arizona’s dark eyes blazed. “That’s different, you bitch. You don’t know what we’ve been through.”
“So tell us,” I say.
“No,” Arizona snaps, spinning towards me. “And I don’t need you telling me what to do or who I will and won’t need. I have my girls, and they’re the only ones I trust. I don’t trust you, or you, or any of you silent fuckers who don't dare to say anything.” She points her finger at a corner of the room where a number of girls continue to remain silent and staring. “As far as I’m concerned, the only people I can trust are my girls and me. I don’t need any of you! And even if I do have to carry some alien’s baby, that’s fine. They’re all the same anyway. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. I don’t need sorority sisters.” Her tanned cheeks flush as Alaska touches her forearm. “Whatever, I’m fine.”
“You could tell them,” Alaska says softly.
“Screw you,” Arizona snaps, shooting up to her feet. “I’m going to pee.”
As the door shuts behind her, I try not to let Arizona’s pissy behavior bother me. “Anyone else want to say hello?” I ask, putting on a fake smile as the girls in the corner watch me warily. “Come on. Please. If anything, can we at least know your names?”
They glance at each other. They glance at Alaska. They glance at the bathroom door where Arizona had disappeared behind.
“Adrienne,” one says with short brown hair and freckles. She quickly looks away and points at the stunning Hispanic looking chick and the hottest chick on the entire mission. “That’s Mia and Lacey.”
“Hey.” I wave as York does the same. Neither girl responds to either of us, but I can’t help but stare at Lacey. She’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen in my life. Like a model, actress, and socialite all rolled into one. Perfect, wavy black hair, pale skin, and light blue eyes. If I was a lesbian…
The two girls next to Mia and Lacey both glance up but remain silent. These two are incredibly fit and strong. It would be nice for them to answer, to make sure they’re on our side, but they seem only to care about each other. I shake it off, trying not to be offended.
Sides? What am I even talking about? This isn’t a game. No one’s going to win.
“Aoi Kane,” one says. She looks Asian with incredible black lined eyes and matching hair with a few red streaks.
“Krista.” Dark skin. Light eyes. Slim. Stunning like almost everyone else.
“Rhyan.” The tallest of all us, I bet. Over six feet. Blonde hair and green eyes. Neither looks natural at first, but I guess it’s whatever her last buyer wanted.
Finally, my attention drifts to a small girl huddled in a separate corner from everyone else.
“That’s everyone,” I say loudly, hoping to catch her attention. “Except you… what’s your name?” I tilt my head at the pale bundle of skin and bones in the corner, hoping to catch her eyes, but she only pulls her knees closer to her chest. She has the body of a model hidden under the ugly sack she’s wearing. “Not a talker?” I guess.
“Leave her,” Dakota says. “That’s Taya, and she never talks. That’s why clients like her so much. You leave her alone, and she’ll leave you alone.”
“That’s not the point—”
“Leave her,” Kansas insists. “Just leave her be.”
I accept defeat for the time being. It’s something. Now that I know everyone’s names, I can start matching faces with those names. Even some personalities and preferences. It’s a lot more than I had twenty minutes ago. And though it seems like Arizona wants nothing to do with learning about one another, I remember not to take it personally. As she said, I don’t know her story. I don’t know what she’s been put through. I may have been only eighteen when I signed up to be an entertainer, but I know Arizona was too. She’s over thirty now, still going strong, and the life of an entertainer is a hard one. A tiring one. A humiliating one.
But it’s the life we all signed up for.
Well, to be fair I’m not sure if I would have signed up to be the carrier of some rich alien’s offspring, but I did sign up to entertain. I wanted to dance. I wanted to make good money and send it back to my dad.
I never signed up to be a space whore.
And yet here I am, heading to my next assignment which, I will admit, does make me a little nervous. I never know how legal any of these assignments are. If someone gathers me up and says the name of my company and promises another chunk of contract money to be sent home, I go with them. I want to stay alive. I want to see another day. And in some hidden parts of the deepest crevices of my subconscious, I fantasize about going home and finding out if any of this meant anything to anybody.
Probably not, but I still want to live. I remember screaming that at an alien once.
Human Whores want to live, eh? His voice still left chills on my spine. Maybe you haven’t been doing this job long enough.
Maybe not.
Absently, I rub my lower stomach for a distraction. What would it be like to be pregnant? Would I be one of those chicks who got fat all over? Or would I be a walking beach ball? I smirk and almost find the courage to ask Arizona how it was for her. She said she did it before. A baby. I never imagined being a mother until now, and it’s not the worst thing in the world. A small smile creeps on my lips before I remember this won’t be my baby. I’d carry it, yes, but I won’t be its mother.
I quickly lower my hand as the ship slows.
We’re getting closer, so I try to focus on concerns that make more sense than bodily changes with an alien’s baby inside me.
What would the natives be like? Humanoid? I prefer humanoids, but I know better than to hope for that. But at least with humanoids, it’s easier for me to understand what they expect. Sexually. It was a shock to find out what sex was like when there’s no dick. I shouldn’t expect a standard dick. After all, what kind of attractive humanoid aliens would pay for and ship twenty trained Human Whores to possibly carry their offspring?
They had to be something like a Draken, Octonod, or Pluef.
They had to be, otherwise, why would they pay for us?
Nothing else makes sense.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, slumping to the floor.
“That’s what he said.” York quirks a small smile in my direction. I have to return the smile; otherwise, I’ll have to focus on my racing heartbeat. Some girls smile uncomfortably, but those quickly fall away as the ship lurches to a halt.
“We’re here,” Ellis says softly.
No one responds.
CHAPTER TWO
Blythe
I swallow hard, glancing at the faces surrounding me. Nervous. We all are. I want to be brave, but first arriving for a new assignment never stops feeling intimidating. We all fall silent as sounds rumble around us and footsteps fill my ears. I glance over at York who’s watching the door.
“They’re coming,” she hisses, glancing over at Phoebe. “For fuck's sake, don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m not going to,” she hisses back, narrowing her eyes. “But I’m not going to let anyone call me a whore.”
“That’s considered stupid.” I try to remember the first time I tried to resist. Pretending to be better t
han the aliens escorting me off the ship. I remember warm bodies slathering themselves all over mine, leaving their greasy residue all over my skin. Rape is a word that seems to be familiar across the entire universe, and I don’t want that to happen to Phoebe. As annoying as she is, of course, I don’t wish rape on anyone. Besides, it’s good to have someone who thinks positively about this mission.
Keep it together. There’s no need to think about rape right now. Nothing’s happened yet, and there’s no reason to assume the worst.
The door slides open, and the rest of the women huddle as far away as they can, minding Tara’s hunkered form.
I swear, I’ve been doing this for years, but I’m still shocked every time I see aliens.
Our escorts for this mission are short but thick. They remind me of the Dwarves from The Lord of the Rings except their eyes are huge, black hollow holes in their heads. They appear to have four in their massive green, pimply heads. They also kind of resemble bullfrogs – bullfrogs in shiny, black suits and powerful guns holstered to their hips.
“Translators on,” the supposed leader of the group croaks, tapping the side of his head. Everyone follows orders without a fight, and the ones who don’t have a device mimic the action so as not to draw attention to themselves. Several of the froggish like dwarves nudge each other like they should have risked taking a turn with one or two of us before landing.
“Everyone up,” another rumbles, taller than his friend, but also thinner.
I clock the largest frog around five and a half feet tall, same height as me, but that doesn’t make any of them less intimidating. They’re strong. I swallow hard and get to my feet, checking over the group to make sure everyone else does the same.
“We’re here. Follow me. We are to leave the ship for the designated areas, and there you will be given more information about your assignments.”
“From who?” Phoebe chirps.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
The leading frog dwarf takes a few menacing steps towards Phoebe. His three-fingered hand immediately curls around the gun at his hip. Overly large red lips pull up into a smile that isn’t kind. Phoebe doesn’t seem to understand this is a power play. She merely stands there, stupid and smiling, patient and idiotic.