A Centaur for Libby

by Reese Gabriel

  Ah, yes, she thought sardonically, Tarzan in the City, on the verge of arrest. A situation tailor-made for me.

  As Libby drew closer she could see the man was listening to one of the horses, apparently interpreting to the police. “She has arthritis,” he was explaining. “And she feels neglected when you leave her in the stall overnight.”

  “Do mine now,” said the other cop.

  A senior officer zeroed in on Libby. “Libra, my dear, dear Libra,” said Captain Pirelli, employing the very same tone of voice as her supervisor when he wanted to unload something on her.

  “Vinny, no,” she said.

  “I haven’t asked yet.”

  “Doesn’t matter, it has to do with this and I’m not getting involved.”

  “The hell you aren’t,” he snorted. “You’re a disaster junkie.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Arrest him and I’ll represent him.”

  “Don’t want to arrest him. We’re sure to catch heat from the animal rights activists. Police abuse of horses, just what we need.”

  “So send him to county psych. He’s obviously not right.”

  “You know what it’s like there. You want to throw this guy to the wolves? Look at him, tell me he’s not different.”

  She shook her head. “You’re getting sentimental on me, Vinny.”

  “It’s not that,” said the grizzled cop. “I just got this…feeling.”

  Libby looked him over. She had a feeling too. A distinctly feminine one in response to overwhelming male beauty. Never had she seen a suit filled out like this, like he was the very model from which maleness had been made. His bare feet only added to the look, rugged power and lean energy under fabulous silk. She wanted to rub herself against the material. She wanted to take it all off him to see what was underneath.

  He was so tanned, his features so sculpted, as if he had been carved by the wind, like a mountain over a million years or so. But he was very much flesh too, pulsing with life, with a kind of grace to his lips, to the flow of his long hair and the movements of his large, capable hands.

  Where was he from? His accent sounded slightly Greek, but not entirely.

  Incredible, she marveled watching him. He was completely commanding this situation, keeping a squadron of police entirely under his spell. Libby felt the wetness between her legs, an instinctive response to his display of natural dominance.

  What could a man like that do to a woman? How would he touch her? How would he make her feel? Would he see straight through to her heart? How would he handle that much power?

  “All I’m asking, Libby, is that you take him out of here, figure out what he’s about. I’ll send a couple of men with you even,” said Vinny.

  Libby was lost to his words. She was hearing the voice. Why did it sound so familiar? A chill went down her spine as she thought of her dream. The raspy, richness of her centaur’s words as they poured from his tongue to her ears, filling her entire being.

  Damn, she really did need to get laid. Now she was transcribing fantasy into reality.

  “Libby, do you hear me?”

  She blinked at the captain. His brows were furrowed. He was worried about her again. You wouldn’t expect that kind of closeness between a PD and a cop, then again she had been on the other side the first two years of her career. One of the best assistant district attorneys in the city. Destined for much higher things, or so they said.

  Then she had gone and blown it all, taking a dead-end job representing the worst of the worst.

  “Sorry, Vinny. It’s been a hell of a day.”

  “Maybe I’m pushing you too hard,” he said.

  “If that’s a strategy to get me to argue with you it will probably work.”

  “It’s no strategy. You look beat. You should go home and sleep. I’ll deal with Mr. Horse Whisperer over here.”

  “No.” She put her hand on his sleeve. “I want to do it. And I don’t need any babysitters, either.”

  He frowned, considering. “All right, I’ll release him into your custody. But the escort is nonnegotiable.”

  “Fine,” she agreed. “So long as they give us our privacy.”

  He raised a brow. She flushed slightly. Was he reading her mind about what she would like to do with the man in private?

  “I’ll take him to Sydney’s.” She named a popular diner down the street known for its terrible coffee and obnoxious law enforcement clientele.

  He smiled. “I’m sure you won’t get in much trouble there.”

  Indeed, Libby was sure to have many defenders, leaving aside the captain’s escort. She was unique in that way, she supposed, having the respect of the police for her objective work, respecting both sides of the legal process.

  “Heads up.” The captain inserted himself into the circle of spellbound officers. “Working policeman coming through.”

  Most took the hint and headed off, back to their assigned beats. To the others, he gave a quick incline of his head, dismissing them. The two mounted officers were among them. They bent down one at a time to shake the suited man’s hand and thank him.

  “I’m Captain Pirelli of the Metropolitan Police,” he introduced himself. “May I ask if you have any identification?”

  “Yes. I am known as Markos,” the man said, without the slightest trace of temerity or sarcasm.

  The captain exhaled in thinly veiled frustration. “I meant a photo ID, but what the hell. Markos, I would like you to meet Libby Daniels, she’s a good friend and a great listener. How would you like to go with her and talk a while?”

  Markos turned to Libby, his blue eyes boring into her with just enough intensity to make her knees weak. “You are the lawyer? You are the Libra?”

  She quickly glanced at the captain. “Libra’s my full name and yes, I am a lawyer.”

  “I am Markos.” He bowed as though she hadn’t heard his name already. “It is my honor to know you.”

  She put out her hand. “Me, too.”

  His lips thinned. He looked at her hand in the most charmingly perplexed way.

  “She’s trying to shake hands,” said the captain.

  Markos lifted his hand, quite slowly, allowing her to clasp it. The blood coursed through Libby’s veins as he gripped, enveloping but not overwhelming. A woman could lose herself in a grip like that.

  “You can…let go now,” she said at last.

  He released her, as though he had never done such a thing before. How peculiar. She had seen more than her share of mentally disoriented people, with all manner of psychiatric diagnoses but none had ever been as calm and clear as this man. He acted more like a foreigner than a crazy person.

  “I will go with you,” said Markos. “And talk.”

  The way he said it made it sound like a whole lot more. Nothing dirty just…more. “There’s a place up the street,” she said. “You’re going to need shoes, though.”

  “Is that absolutely necessary?”

  “It’s, um, pretty universal. No shoes, no service.”

  “I have never worn shoes. I do not wish to.”

  Libby considered the matter. He seemed pretty determined. “What about sandals?” she suggested.

  “We could scare up a pair,” said the captain. “What are you a size eleven? Never mind, we’ll figure it out. Kowalsky,” he called out to a rotund officer. “Go buy the man some sandals. O’Brien, take them to Sydney’s, tell Syd to let him in barefoot on my approval.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the two men in unison.

  A few minutes later they were sitting down at a booth in the back of the diner. She caught plenty of glances and a few wisecracks too. Markos seemed oblivious.

  They went all the way to the back. She sat down first, sliding into the narrow leatherette booth with the gray Formica top. In the years of coming here she hadn’t noted a single change. Not even the cracked picture frame on the wall featuring a smiling group of antique policemen in Bobby-style hats and enormous mustaches.

  Markos mimicked he
r motions, planting himself across from her. He looked even more imposing sitting down, his elbows on the tabletop, his wide, padded shoulders rising well above the back of the mint-green seat.

  “May I ask you a question?” Markos said, wasting no time.

  “Yes?” That voice of his, damn, it was haunting.

  “Your hair. Why do you keep it so tight on your head?”

  “It’s…it’s a style,” she said, more than a little taken aback by his forwardness.

  “You should wear it loose,” he said. “It would look much more…what is the right word? Forgive me, I have only just learned your language.”

  She shifted in her seat, hugging her body a little closer. Thank goodness she had worn her safest pantsuit today, the dull gray with salmon-colored blouse, no jewelry, flat shoes. “I’m sure I don’t know what word you mean. Could we get to the matter at hand, if you don’t mind?”

  He continued looking, crinkling his eyes. She was forced to shift yet again, feeling the heat like lasers. “I have it,” he exclaimed. “The word is sexy, am I right?”

  Blood rushed to her face. “I won’t say it again, Mr. Markos. We are here to talk about the law.”

  “You are offended by my use of the word?”

  “No. I’m just…busy. I haven’t a lot of time.”

  This was true, but only partially. Being called sexy by a man with all the basic qualifications for Greek godhood was just a bit overwhelming.

  “You humans all seem so busy. You must be accomplishing very important things.”

  You humans. She registered the ego check at once. No wonder he thought she was attractive. He was a complete lunatic.

  “We certainly try,” she said dryly. “Now how about if you tell me about your world or whatever you call it. And why you need a lawyer.”

  “I call it what it is. Constellia. The Kingdom of the Zodiac Signs. Ruled by Her Majesty Queen Aquaria, widow of His late Highness, King Ruperius the Lionheart.” He paused, evaluating her silent reaction. “You don’t believe a word I am saying, do you?”

  She bit her lip. What a thing for a lawyer, to be at a loss for words. What could she say, though, sitting like this, in a fog, feeling irresistibly drawn to this otherworldly, magnetic man? For all knew he really did come from outer space or whatever.

  It was the waitress, Marge, who saved her.

  “Coffee,” said the tough-faced old woman, setting down a pair of chipped ceramic mugs like checkmate pieces in a chess game. There was no questioning as she poured out the steaming black sludge. Nor was there any hope of ordering off the menu given Marge’s propensity for picking out people’s meals for them. If you were lucky Marge would at least give you a choice or two along the way.

  “The pie today is lemon meringue,” Marge informed them in her irrepressible New York accent. “Unless youse want some toast and eggs?”

  “Pie is fine,” answered Libby, not wanting to delve into whatever Marge-logic put eggs and pie into the same category.

  Come to think of it, maybe she would be right up Markos’ alley. “This is Mr. Markos,” Libby introduced him. “He’s from Constellia. I don’t suppose you ever heard of it?”

  She pulled a pad from her apron pocket, faded pink like her uniform. “Sure, it’s in Jersey, ain’t it?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Libby. “It has a queen.”

  “Like the rock group?” asked Marge.

  “Queen Aquaria rules the creatures of the zodiac,” Markos explained. “Since the king’s death, she has been under the dark influence of Scorpos, tyrannical leader of the Scorpions. He seeks to dismantle the Centaur Guard and install himself as king.”

  Marge nodded knowingly. “Things are tough all over. Would you believe they doubled my brother-in-law’s property taxes this year? He can’t even afford to live there no more.”

  “I am sorry to hear this,” said Markos. “On Constellia he would appeal to Her Majesty for redress.”

  “Yeah, well, all we get is fat-cat politicians on the city council. Fat lot of good that does.” She walked away, shaking her head.

  Libby sighed, going to work on her coffee.

  “You really should let down your hair, you know,” said Markos as she tried to offset the miniature black lagoon with packets of creamer.

  Libby decided to meet him head-on. “What difference does it make? I thought we were here to talk.”

  “We are,” he agreed. “But I would like to please my eyes with your beauty.”

  “I’m not beautiful,” she snapped, taken more than a little off guard. “And if I were, it wouldn’t be meant for you.”

  Markos watched her stirring, clink, clink, with the spoon. She raised the cup to her lips, ready to get the first horrible sip out of the way.

  “I think we should make love,” he said, inducing her to sputter the contents across the table.

  “What did you say?!”

  “I said we should consummate physically, Libby. In order to get to know each other.”

  “I know all I need to, buster.” Her heart was slamming in her chest. He wanted her…he wanted her. “And as far as I am concerned, this conversation is over.”

  He remained unperturbed. “If you are concerned about my abilities, I promise I will bring you pleasure. I might be too excited to sustain the first time, but I am capable of three or four erections a night. I will give you as many orgasms as you wish, with my cock and my tongue both. It is true, I have never loved a human, but I have been with a number of Aquarii and a few of the Virgos too, though no one is supposed to know they aren’t really virgins.”

  Libby’s head swam. She looked around to see if anyone was hearing this. “Markos, you can’t talk this way.”

  “Why not? I speak the truth. You are incredibly desirable. My cock is quite hard for you.”

  She was on her feet by this time, her every thought of escape. It was Marge of all people who stopped her.

  “Pie,” she said pointedly, blocking the way to the exit.

  Libby sat back down not wanting to make a scene that might get Markos in trouble.

  “How do you eat this?” Markos wanted to know.

  “Like this.” Marge pointed to the fork, pantomiming.

  Following her lead, Markos speared the pie and swallowed a bite. “It’s delicious,” he approved.

  Marge smiled, looking like a twenty year old. “How about the coffee?” she asked. “Did you try that? I bet they don’t have anything like that back in…where did you say you were from?”

  “Constellia.” Markos gulped the coffee and set down the empty mug. “Not bad.”

  The two women looked at each other.

  “Didn’t that hurt?” exclaimed Marge.

  “No. Tell me, Marge,” he inquired, “if you were Libby would you want me to make love to you?”

  Libby sank down in her seat. There was nowhere good this could go, not even close.

  “Are you kidding?” she snorted. “I don’t need to be her. You can make love to me right here and now. On the table if you like.”

  “That’s kind of you,” said Markos. “But it needs to be Libby. I am rather aroused for her at the moment and besides we need to get to know each other if she is to represent me in my case.”

  “No sweat, honey,” she assured with a wink. “You’re a little old for me anyway.”

  Libby waited until she was gone. “I am going to die,” she groaned. “Markos, how could you? I have to come back here.”

  “How could I what?” he asked in exasperating innocence.

  “You know perfectly well what,” she accused. “You are deliberately trying to shame me into having sex with you.”

  “I’m not exactly sure what that means,” he said. “But if it’s working…”

  “It most certainly is not,” she exclaimed. “And I will thank you to talk about your case from this point forward and nothing else.”

  “What would be the point? You haven’t believed a word of it so far.”

 
“I never said that, Markos.”

  “You don’t have to, it’s written all over you. Among other things,” he added cryptically.

  Libby didn’t like the sounds of that. “What other things?”

  “You are frustrated and anxious. You need a man very badly.”

  “What I need is my head examined for listening to you at all. If only you were a normal crazy person I could walk away.”

  “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t make love,” he said, stuck on the sex thing like a dog with a bone.

  “For starters I don’t even know you,” she retorted, unable to drop the matter herself.

  “All the more reason to give yourself over to me,” he said softly, his lips choreographing a dance all their own. “When I am inside you, Libby, when my mouth is on your breasts, when I am drawing your deepest sighs and curling your pretty little toes, then you will know me.”

  Damn. It was getting hot in here. She fanned herself with the menu. Finally, a use for it, after all these years. “Markos, I have to be frank with you. Your attitude, the way you are handling yourself. It’s going to get you in trouble. With the police. If Captain Pirelli hadn’t released you to me you would have gone to jail, do you know what that is?”

  He took the menu from her hand and then took her hand itself. “I was imprisoned in the royal dungeon,” he said, administering a kiss to her knuckles. “For three days after my arrest. Some friends of mine helped me escape.”

  “Markos, don’t do that.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  Shivers ran up and down her spine. She was alternating icy chills and raging fire. Like it? She felt born to it. “It’s not…appropriate,” she said.

  “Your skin is warming,” he observed, leaning forward. “I can smell your heat as well. You are filled with desire as I am.”

  “I’m just overworked, that’s all.” She tried to take back her hand, this time he held on, playfully.

  “Have you ever had a man out of his mind wanting you, Libra? Have you borne the fruit of his unstoppable needs, his screaming passion?”

  “Not…not exactly.”

  “Then you have suffered a great wrong,” Markos said with fierce intensity. “I tell you, these men here should be lined up to seek your favors. On their knees, Libra, begging.”