by Robin Danner
Don't think about politics—concentrate on the task at hand, she told herself. Find him. She scanned the crowd and waited for something—anything—to tug at her midsection and let her know she'd found the man she was looking for.
Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Her pendulum, its chain dangling from the end of her toy bow, swung quiescently, pushed by nothing more than the motion of the anti-grav platform on which the float rested. So far, the only thing the little chip of diamond had done was hide her little condition and its associated stigmas. She was supposed to have found her target by now, but so far all she had found was that she rather enjoyed the idea that the crowd could see her naked body through her sheer tunic. She liked being watched.
The downside to her burgeoning exhibitionism meant that the little thrill of warmth that zipped through her grew as the parade float made its way past more people. She leaned back on her foam-form crescent moon and thrust her breasts out, indulging in a little harmless titillation for the crowd. The people lining the street seemed to appreciate it. Several men clapped and tossed gold glitter at the float. She smiled back and waved again, taking special care to wink at the dour-faced Doomsayer protesters holding up their little marquee signs scrolling LED-lit messages predicting Armageddon due to mankind's arrogance.
One of the protesters stumbled into the parade path. Flashing street lights began to rotate, and his compatriots yanked him back into the crowd just as the plexiglas barrier rose from a slot in the street surface. She scanned the crowd and saw that the protester's forward gaffe erupted from a disturbance behind him. A crowd of people wearing white coveralls with red braid—Cinco City's Finest—pushed through the revelers, scanning with their little handhelds. One pointed forward and the group moved down the street, shoving at the people dancing in their way.
Rude, she thought, and turned to the crowd on the left. One of the handmaidens on the lower tier of the float flung a handful of Moon-cakes out into the crowd. Some people were actually stupid enough to reach for them. The Moon was famous for many things: its bright nocturnal gleam, its influence on Earth tides, its inspiration for insanity, its ore-mining. It was not known for its confectionery.
A young man with stag antlers strapped to his head waved from the front of the float and called out, “They'll rot your teeth!” He flashed his loincloth at the onlookers and Lin repressed a sigh. If only he weren't gay, she thought, eyeing the bulge underneath the scrap of synthetic doeskin. Ask him if he's bi, her voice of reason prodded. It's been over a week, and your appetites aren't going to wait.
The crowd cheered, she waved again and nocked a toy arrow, pretending to aim for the young buck. Too bad it was illegal to find a compatible man that way. It would be a lot less complicated than having to explain that yes, she did have an aggressive libido and no, it didn't make her a slut. She'd trade in the false promises to call afterwards for a little gentleness and creativity during. But she'd settle for finding someone who wouldn't automatically put her under quarantine.
Her urges were growing stronger again. She needed a man, and soon. Already, her focus strayed towards finding potential mates rather than her mission. If she let the situation go, the urges would blossom into full-blown obsessions. Whether it was food, drink, sleep, or sex, once her body decided it needed something, she could ignore it at her own—and others'—peril. Small price to pay in exchange for health, though. The float wobbled and her attention went from the crowd to the float.
My prayers have been answered, she thought, looking down at the man who crouched at her feet and stared up at her with the most liquid brown eyes she'd ever seen. “Come to get a blessing from the Moon goddess?” she asked.
Where he'd come from, she didn't know. But she knew where he'd be spending the night. She smiled and raised her leg, feeling a thrill as his gaze followed her motion, drifting upward to what she exposed for his benefit. His hunter's cap rested crookedly on silky auburn hair that curled over his forehead and led to an aquiline nose. His nostrils flared, as if he had caught her scent. The blush creeping up his neck from the collar of his white shirt surprised her.
Very deliberately, she set her foot down right over his crotch and felt heat and hardness there. An answering flush of heat coiled between her legs. Without the confinement of underwear, she felt herself swell and open, the motion sudden and immediate. I could do him right here, she realized. On this float, with people watching. Spacedust, that's a turn-on.
His hands closed around her bare foot, enveloping her in warmth. Her own lips suddenly dried when he pressed her foot more firmly against his erection. Her tongue darted out to deliver much-needed moisture. He squeezed gently and the touch traveled up her leg. She shifted, the crescent foam suddenly feeling too warm.
She pushed back with her foot, stroking his cock through his pants. Hells bells, even the soles of her feet were getting turned on by the feel of him. A hot flush crept upwards from her midsection at the answering swivel of his hips against her foot. Her nipples became hyper-aware of the slide of sheer silk over their hard tips, and the sudden need to touch herself to ease the pressure created a damp heartbeat centered just over her clit.
One of the handmaidens aimed a remote control at the top of the crescent, and a puff of glitter erupted, drifting down to coat the crowds with silver. The girl sent her a glare. Lin hastily activated her own remote and dry ice mist hissed from the bottom of the Moon crescent.
Hands circled her ankle now. His fingers brushed up the back of her calf. “You catch on quick,” she said.
His gaze flicked side to side, taking in the thickening fog, and how it obscured him from the spectators. “You'd better wave again,” he said. “Or else people will think you're up to something.”
She lifted a hand, but on the way back down, she twitched the sheer fabric of her tunic higher up her legs and met his liquid brown eyes. The mist swirled up level with her waist and she swung her free leg away from its mate. Tendrils of chilly air snaked into places normally insulated by body heat and the throb between her legs intensified.
She looked down at his fingers. Slender digits circled her calf and made maddeningly slow progress higher, past her knee to her thigh. She hissed with impatience. If he didn't get there soon, she would.
She tugged at her skirts again, this time casually brushing between her legs at her swollen lips. The touch felt so good! Her would-be lover stared, rapt, his lips parted. She stroked again and a fluid shimmer raced through her. Her eyelids fluttered, but a cheer from the crowd had them snapping open again and she darted her gaze around to see if anyone had noticed what she was doing. The thought of it sent another shudder through her and a rush of wetness coated her fingertip.
His hands moved to her thighs, lightly squeezing—both soothing and arousing. The broad tips of his fingers tormented her with their proximity. Her own finger dragged over the sensitive pearl of her clit, down to dip into the well of her pussy, and back up again.
He glanced up at her as his fingers finally reached her crotch. “May I?” he asked, slightly shocking her with the absurdity of the formality. A definite change from the other Lunar miners she usually played with.
“I'd be insulted if you didn't,” she responded playfully. Very delicately, he probed her lips and the alien feel of his finger sliding into her slippery pussy nearly sent her over the edge right there. She bit off a moan as he thrust again, this time deeper. She opened for him, slick and wet. “Ohh, yes,” she murmured, leaning against the crescent moon. Above the mist line, she could clearly see the heads of the people lining the street. The float erupted with spurts of confetti and glitter, coating everything with colored paper and silver flakes. She let the toy bow slide down to her elbow as she leaned back further and stroked her clit again.
His finger glided in and out of her, building tension and increasing her pulse. After one became slick with her juices, he twisted his wrist and slid a second finger inside her. She bit her lip to keep from screaming and instead looked down at him. “Is the go
ddess pleased?” he asked, pushing more deeply inside her.
“Very,” she said, a little breathlessly.
“You smell delicious,” he murmured. “I'd really like to taste.”
Her inner walls clenched and her belly tightened in anticipation. As hot as she was, the mere thought of having a tongue swirling between her plump folds nearly made her come. “You may,” she said archly.
He leaned in closer and his silky hair tickled her inner thighs. The touch of his tongue over her slick folds sent a stab of sensation through her. He licked lightly, tentatively, as if he thought he might hurt her. She twisted slightly, encouraging him. His tongue pressed more firmly, parting her outer lips and gliding over her clit. She shivered and dropped one hand to rest on his head.
His hair was so soft. A lovely auburn color. His large hands rested lightly on her thighs, and when he looked up at her, she really did feel like a goddess for an instant. Then he plunged his tongue deep and high inside her and her eyes fluttered closed. His mouth covered her clit and his tongue turned to flicking while he worked his fingers back into her pussy. She stroked his silky hair in time with the flicks of his tongue and scratched lightly behind his ears. Cocooned in the mist, he was her precious secret.
She moaned, glitter-lights flashing in her eyes. He curved his fingers inside her and hit her sweet spot. Her fingers dug into the foam-form of the crescent, punching through the paint on the outside and leaving dents as she rode the first shockwaves of orgasm. Her hips made little restless movements around his fingers and she cried out.
A blast echoed in her ears and she was sure her head must have exploded until the glitter rained down over her bare thighs, coating them in silvery flecks that caught the light and threw it out in sparkling shards. Like a million tiny moons on a backdrop of stars.
* * * *
So this is what it's like to be free, he thought. Free to embrace the instincts instead of fighting them. He withdrew damp fingers from her body with one last twist and inhaled the scent of her pleasure. She smiled down at him, the lights of the spaceport doors reflecting green in her eyes. One hand idly stroked her bow. “Cancel your plans for the rest of the night,” she said. She might not be the Lady, but she knew how to give orders like a goddess.
Things went dark, save for the spotlights on the float, as they passed all the way into the spaceport doors and began drifting down. “I'd love to,” he said, getting to his feet. “But I'm afraid my plans won't wait.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Mine won't either, but I'm good enough at time management to schedule in a fuck when I so obviously need one.” She reached out and cupped the aching bulge in his pants. His cock strained like a live thing and he closed his eyes. If only Helios could wait.
“I'm afraid my schedule's tighter than your channel, my lady.” He took the hat off and tossed it to her. “Thanks for the ride.” He made to step down from the dais, but she thrust her bow out in front of him. That was when they both noticed the chain dangling from the end of it. Or rather, not dangling.
Sure, he'd heard that the ring-cities had gravitational dead spots—kids would try to find them all the time, the promise of a few hours of free weightless entertainment a powerful motivator. He just thought it was an urban myth, left over from the early days of space settlement when gravitic technology was a less sure thing. But the little crystal on the chain fixed to the end of her bow stood straight out, floating in the air as if it were pointing right at him. “Huh,” he said. “Weird.” He glanced at her, hoping to share a smile before parting ways.
Her face beneath the heavy stage makeup was pale. “It can't be,” she whispered.
“Nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “Just a spot of null-grav. They're not supposed to happen in ring-cities, but who knows…” he trailed off as he felt her fingers encircle his wrist. As his own fingers brushed against her silver bracelets, he heard a familiar subsonic jingling and his eyes widened. “This can't…”
She was already ahead of him. “Arrow flies by Diana's hand, carried by the silver band. Face of Heaven, bright and dark, Lady's Arrow has found its mark.”
“No!” he cried, trying to pull his hand away from the bonds of invisible magic that snaked out from her bracelets and wound up his arm. “You didn't smell like…” How could he have missed it?
She looked up at him. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't realize—I mean—it's just my job.”
He turned away, his hand still in hers. Above them, the float carrying the Helios assembly peeled off from the queue and glided down past them at accelerated speed. As it passed level with them, he gathered his strength and jumped away from the surface of the lunar float.
“Hey!” she yelled and lunged after him. He made it as far as the edge of the anti-grav pad and took two more stumbling steps before jumping again into open space.
The barrier might as well have been made of steel, the way it slammed into his body. He landed hard on both feet and dropped on his ass, crab-scuttling back as the invisible tether of magic pulled him towards the crescent moon.
Her face reflected nothing. “Sorry, kid,” she said.
“You don't understand.” I don't understand. How could she be an agent of an Olympian when she had no scent of them?
Her lips twisted in derision. “I don't care,” she said, not unkindly. “I've got twenty hours to deliver you to Diana on the Martian moon of Deimos.” She shrugged. “The real Lady wants her Hound back.”
Over her shoulder, the Helios float glided into the gaping maw of an access tunnel leading to a separate wing of the spaceport. As the doors thundered shut behind it, his shoulders sagged. “It doesn't matter now,” he muttered.
There went my last chance.
Chapter 2
His face fell, and Lin didn't feel at all like the righteous justice of the Moon goddess. “Look,” she said. “I'm sorry about this, but it's my job. Well, my other job. Usually I just mine Helium with the other Lunies, but we're kinda serious about our Goddess, and I made a promise that I'd deliver you to Her, and I keep my promises.” She looked away, towards the darkened cavern housing the other floats. Without the glare of streetlights in her eyes, she could see just how young he was. He couldn't be any less than fifteen years younger than her. “I didn't mean…I'm…if you weren't who you are, we could have had more fun together. You were very considerate. I don't get that much.”
The float drifted past the access tunnel where Helios had disappeared. A sudden deep rumbling roared up from below and the doors to the tunnel flew open. “What the…” Her mouth fell open.
“Get down!” He threw himself on top of her. They crashed into the curve of the crescent as a rush of pressurized air blew out of the tunnel. Lin hit the ground hard, her gaze going upward just in time to see the top of the crescent collapse and shrivel. Her ears popped and her lungs tightened as the air around them depressurized and re-regulated in the wake of the concussion wave. The confetti tank exploded, showering down a pile of glitter on top of them. Tarnished silver flecks shook out of his hair as he looked down at her. He had a nice feel, lying on top of her like that. Tall enough to fit well. “You okay?” he asked.
Way to make me feel worse about this. “What the hell was that?” The glitter he shook out of his hair didn't quite make it to the floor. She felt herself growing lighter and one of her arrows floated up out of the upturned quiver. “Hells,” she said. “Gravity's out.”
Chloe, one of the float handmaidens, sprang up out of the crawlspace beneath the float, a lanyard clipped to the silvery belt she wore around her dress. “Concussion grenade,” she said, scrambling to secure the platforms and all the bits starting to drift away from them. “They're locking down this whole wing of the spaceport.”
Locking it down? Hells again. It could take hours to sort through the mess.
Chloe noticed the man on top of her. She made a tsking sound. “Geez, Lin. Couldn't you wait?”
She glanced up at the young man. I'm glad I didn't, she
thought. Now that she knew who he was, recreational activities were out of the question. “Shut up, Chloe.” Only reason the little priss was here was so she could go shopping for Earth goods with daddy's money.
“Who is he? Security's going to want to know.”
She felt him tense. She frowned, remembering the scuffle along the parade route with the Whites and the protesters. All the more reason to get him back to Diana.
“He's…” she broke off and looked up. He floated above her, tethered to her by virtue of the magic she'd spoken a few minutes ago. “He's…”
“You don't even know his name, do you?” Chloe smirked. “Wait until City Council hears about this.”
Lin rolled her eyes. “They'll be sure to give you the part of Diana, then?” she asked. Chloe was pretty transparent. She’d spent the last four trips sulking about not wearing the crescent crown.
“No, you slut. The Ministry of Health and Sanitation will finally see you so-called Truebreeds for what you are—genetic freaks who are a health risk to society.”
“You really want that crown, don't you?” She reached up to pull the silver band off her forehead. “Let me save you the trouble.” She flung it at Chloe. The girl jumped to snag the flying tiara and her tether stretched to its limit, jerking her back just as her fingers clutched at the crown.
Lin fumed. Just because she'd been born lucky enough to thrive in an off-planet environment without the need for gene therapy or pharmaceutical assistance to maintain her well-being, entire segments of the average population actively loathed people like her, considering her state a condition to be shunned. In some of the LEOs, like Cinco City, her kind was even quarantined, their natural health—the need for just a little more of everything, food, sleep, sex—was considered a threat to the social and moral fabric of the community. What a crock.